


then came you

by soyul



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-09 22:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 245,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyul/pseuds/soyul
Summary: One thousand and forty nine years ago, Shane Madej is rudely awakened after his unfortunate death. Left cursed to find his soulmate who could set his eternal soul free, Shane assimilates into society as an almighty deity and turns his life around when he’s accidentally summoned into the life of a strong-willed college student named Ryan Bergara.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! I had been working on this fic for almost nine months and for it to be over is so unreal to me lol. Thank you in advance for reading and familiarize yourself with the warnings beforehand!
> 
> This story is COMPLETED. ~250,000 words in total (more or less as I'm editing it) 12 chapters and unbeta'd. I will add in a new chapter weekly or every other day!
> 
> Heavily based on the K-Drama Goblin, which isn't necessary to watch to understand but it's recommended because it's one of my favorite dramas of 2017! I tried to follow the storyline as best as I could but the ending and most of the plot is not the same.
> 
> WARNINGS: There is graphic descriptions of violence, so there will be gore/blood, death and traumatic near-death experiences. The rating is Mature, there is strong language and obviously violence, if that's not something you want to read, it is advised not to! If you do, please do so with caution.
> 
> That's it! Again, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy these first two chapters! The next one will be posted soon! :')
> 
> *apologies to any spelling errors, you can guess that English isn't my first language :-(

**CALIFORNIA,** **1990**

She found out that she was carrying him when she was sixteen years old.

She remembered. Isolated in a dim bathroom, dumbfoundedly narrowing her eyes from the foggy mirror to the pregnancy test in her lithe fingers. _Positive_. Two lines. Positive. That’s what the back of the box said. 

She remembered blinking at the two distant pink lines and the mirror repeatedly, condensation apparent from the hot water. The mirror began to steadily clear again, leaving her to stare at herself.

She had just taken a hot, steamy shower to forget about her ex-boyfriend and the mistake she had committed. Her moist strands of black hair, dripping water at the tips to the pristine floor, stuck to her skin and she began to shiver from sitting naked on the toilet seat for so long. Any minute now, her mother will knock on the door because her sister had snitched on her.

How much time would pass before she could get ready for bed? She did not know, not until somebody pounded on the bathroom door. She drew in a sharp breath, preparing herself for her mother’s rage and rendered herself completely still.

“Are you done in there? I have to pee!” It was her sister’s high-pitched voice and from across the door she knew that it’s a lie to keep her mother away from the truth.

Tuning out her sister’s hand slamming on the bathroom door, she fiddled with the pregnancy test in her hand. Her bony fingers numb from the cold and turning an odd shade of blue, wrinkles had appeared on the tips of her fingers when she gotten out of the shower and an hour later still visible.

(She really doesn't know how long she’d been in there.)

She did not cry nor did she quiver in pity. All she could do was stare at the two lines and knew that she was going to have a baby.

  

* * *

  

She remembered that… her mother had been furious. Could she blame her? A mother. _Her_ mother. Who trusted her daughters to have a better life than hers is told that her oldest is pregnant with a baby at sixteen years old.

Her mother did not speak to her for weeks _,_  months. She took a once look at her, ruthless eyes studied her to find a sign that _maybe_ , just _maybe_ , it had been a cruel joke and she’s the punchline.  

But when she noticed her daughter walk around unconsciously cradling her lower stomach, she yelled at her, unspeakable words even from this day she could not think to repeat. 

She lay awake at night sometimes, believing that her mother hated her and counted the days where she’ll kick her out of her house; she knew the final straw had been when she caught her talking to her baby in her room (when they were the size of a pea, the school nurse told her they were,) telling them that she loved them with her whole heart, even if grandma and daddy did not.

Her mother didn’t kick her out, but didn't accept her pregnancy altogether. She couldn’t say that her younger sister was thrilled about it too. Auntie was, a lovely woman who sold her homemade jewelry and antiques by the bridge she walked for school. A stranger accepted her baby more than her family ever could.

In Los Angeles, strangers would be the first thing you should steer away from, especially as a recently-turned seventeen year old girl going to school. Auntie was never like them, she cared for her, treated her with kindness and offered to feed her and her child every morning. 

After sneaking away from her mother, dressed in an older pair of jeans and a baggier shirt since she began to show and walked through her neighborhood, lowering her head to not make eye contact with anybody around these parts.

(If she calculated correctly, she’s at least a strong nineteen weeks. She knows by eavesdropping on other girls’ conversations at school that you could find out the gender around twenty weeks, but who's to say she could afford an appointment with a real doctor.) 

The morning is always a cloudy one in Los Angeles, a contradictory from books she’s seen with sunny _Hollywood!_

(She’ll love to take her baby there one day, people always talk about Disneyland and how spectacular it is, she’ll work hard to get them there, she knows it.) But she _also_ knows that she lives on the other side of the city, where you could live a day or two without eating.

When she arrived at the bridge, Auntie is setting up shop, a pastel blue cloth with a variety of jewelry, disorganized and piled on top of each other. Auntie spotted her instantly and gestured her to come closer with a wave.

“You must go to a _real_ doctor sometime,” Auntie said, fixing her ponytail with wrinkly, cold fingers. “How else would you have that niño?”

Auntie gave her a plate as she spoke, covered in aluminum foil and rough around the edges. She knew that it was beans, rice and eggs, and from the touch of the plate alone, it is rather warm.

She let out a bitter laugh, squatting to Auntie’s height catch her eyes. Thankfully, she didn’t need to bend over too much, she was already short. Auntie behaved as if she never listened to anybody, refrained herself from making eye contact and reserved.

“Auntie _,_ are you sure he’s a boy? He isn’t that energetic…”

Auntie guffawed, a strand of her grayish hair fell from her ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear. “Children are…” she paused, her hands shaken from arranging jewelry. “They’re all different. Mijo will be special, he’ll need you and you’ll need him.”

She nodded, watching as Auntie’s hands smoothed the fleece blanket. The plate in her hands is grew cold, so she sat on her knees and removed the foil to eat.

“Don’t sit on your knees, sit here,” Auntie gestured beside her; sitting behind the metal fence that separated her and the river below.

Auntie talked to her everyday like this, it could last five minutes to _hours_ and she’ll hang onto every word Auntie says to her. She wondered if her baby would recognize Auntie’s voice, she hoped that they do.

When she sat to eat, Auntie told her how she should prepare her own food to eat for the child, (“if you have to steal, you’ll do it for your _baby,_ no? Pinto beans are nutritious for you, I will teach you to cook beans. You said mijo loves berries right? Eat lots of fruit and drink water.”)

“There is one truth about boys,” Auntie’s voice hardened with a smile, the dimple on her tanned skin exposed as she looked at her with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes. She looked straight at her, the faint sound of water narrowly rushing behind them is nothing but a distraction to her, and she listened earnestly. She always did.

“They all eat the same. Then they’ll call you mama and beg for seconds.” She held her smile, pearly white crooked teeth right at her. “Then they leave.”

She doesn’t stop eating, she chewed leisurely however. Dragging out her time with Auntie to avoid the students at school that love to tease her about being pregnant at seventeen.

“He won’t leave,” she had whispered. “I’ll protect him.”

Auntie smile never faltered, only widened but it’s legitimate this time. “I can’t wait to meet him… ah… mijito _._ ”

 

* * *

  

She found out that her baby is a boy about a month later.

She found a dubious clinic around her neighborhood from her one of her sister’s old friends. She went in on a November afternoon, sitting patiently in a rickety old chair, worn out and surely had been used countless of times. 

She remembered how tense she had been, her eyes locked on one of the the children from the posters scattered around the room. Their radiant smiles peered at her, miniature teeth and all. With their equally as elated parents by their side. And to think that she’ll have a baby soon that’ll grow up to outshine the sun and the other children with their smile. 

She remembered the way that they had laid her down and prodded her stomach. A peculiar gel across her stomach later and there he was, on a screen for her to see. 

He was… in an grainy blue hue on a computer screen but she saw the way he flinched when she had, his leg curled into his chest and hands twitched as if he were dreaming. He was beautiful to her. 

The nurse that worked there had told her that he was a boy and that he was healthy.

She gave the nurse a twenty and ran to tell Auntie.

 

* * *

 

She never made it to Auntie.

She must have underestimated how much time had passed since she’s left school and headed straight for the clinic. It was nighttime, a frosty, moist late November night; she remembered as she walked on the pavement, her sneakers soaked from stepping on every puddle on the sidewalk. She saw the bridge from the distance and stopped, giving herself time to rest.

Auntie had been packing up now, if she—

That’s when the car hit her. The impact was excruciating, and she felt it everywhere in her body. It began at her lower hip, then she rolled around the windshield and landed on her stomach. It happened quickly, and it wasn’t long until she realized that she landed on pavement, bleeding. Her eyes had been open, she remembered, but she wasn’t on her back. She wasn’t on her side either. 

She was on her stomach.

She landed on her baby. She must have cried out bloody murder then but she doesn’t recall that part at all.

She remembered little after that, all she had thought about was to roll over to her back instead of her stomach. However, when she tried to, pain spread all over her body and the ringing in her ear ceased. 

She remembered... she heard a man, frantically shuffling around in the rain… and his mud stained shoes. He did not stride near her, he did not touch her, he never thought to. She saw his figure begin to fade and forced herself to flip on her back one more time, it’s then when she realized that she had broken her arm, flesh tearing through her elbow, she—she saw her own white bone. 

She didn’t care, her baby— her boy is dying because of her and she... rolled over to her back to see the man who had hit her run inside to his car and drive away.

Rubber tires screeched on the wet concrete as she glowered at the car, nothing is visible now because her face had been drenched in her blood.

Her mind took her to the time she was in her bathroom, she did not cry nor did she scream. She lay there, moving her injured hand towards her bulging stomach, it’s… dented from one side… she must have broken her ribs… she must have broken _something_. She remembered trying to move her hand over to her baby, but there wasn’t any way to figure out if he was alive or not.

In the back of her mind back then, she knew that he had died upon impact. Yet, her cruel mind didn’t stop to imagine what could have been. In her mind, all she saw was herself, pacing around a dim lit room with her bundle of joy in her arms. He was drowning in his blanket as she sang to him, when he opened his eyes to look at her, she remembered what she was doing.

Dying.

She remembered, she kept her eyes locked to the sky. Clouds rolled in and droplets of rain fell onto her bloody face, and let out a cry of anguish when she realized that her baby wasn’t going to see the light of day and neither was she. 

It must had been her imagination, but in her hazy state, she saw a man, brown hair and tired looking eyes. Somebody… she tried her best to mutter her baby’s name for him to know. Her baby had a right to know his own name.

She closed her eyes when the man opened his mouth and lifted his hand. She remembered that her eyes were closed when he touched her, a caress to her forehead that she did not pay heed to any longer. She remembered that she wanted to die with her baby. 

As she died, her mind goes back to her baby… to every moment she had with him… learning to cook for him, speaking to him in the late hours of the night and gasped out his name again. 

But she knew she did not speak it; her last thought was of her baby, Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.  
> *corrected the date

War, merciless.

No definition would describe the heartache Shane received from bloodshed. War never represented anything but violence and full authority. War lasted years, dragging out the day to a excruciatingly slow one; hungry men desperately killing each other over land, over food, over humans, over a _kingdom_.

Maybe, _maybe_ , that’s how Shane remained undefeated. He _was_ power-hungry. Ever since he was a child, he controlled his family, his mother praised him for his ability to become a man and manipulate every human-being he knew.

They called him their _lord_. Such blasphemy to murmur a title to a human-being, let alone a human like _Shane_. Peasants loved him however, they worshiped him and they honored him.

He’d tell you that it was because he was taller than most at blatantly sixteen years old. In reality, it had been the power he had over them, if they didn’t listen to him, he’d slice them in half. Their organs would pile onto the grass, their eyes wide open from utter shock.

(Now that he thought about it, maybe they hadn’t praised him. They must have been terrified of him. Of the monster he had become.)

He hadn’t been like that all his life. He was born in a shed, his mother surrounded by women that she had never seen before and helped her as best as they could but she would not bear any other children but him.

_He_ was the oldest and only man of his family, she said, he had to protect their family name. He was a child when his mother took him to the province outside of Poland, (it’s been centuries since he’s returned, he could not recall what it had been called previously,) she took him there by cattle.

Vividly as he could remember the boson skin he had worn, engulfing his tiny body with heated fur to keep his toes from falling out of his body. The effort was meaningless, he was barefoot all the time, crushing pebbles with his toes and biting through the agony of unknown objects on the prickly soles of his feet. His mother told him that he would mature earlier if he was to touch the earth with his naked skin.

He failed to tell her that he’d mature at the age of six, when she sat him on bosen wagon and she told him to cover his ears and close his eyes. They had a penny to their name, he did not understand why his mother asked him such a thing from him but now as he matured and remembered faintly the gruff voices of men when she spoke, he knew that she sacrificed herself for him.

He taught himself to fight when he was ten years old. His mother kept his father’s old sword, rickety and exhausted from his father’s time at war. Who knows how many wars he’d fought, perhaps too many. His mother never told him, she never mentioned his father unless he had come up by accident. It didn’t matter anyway, nothing mattered but the well-being of his mother.

When he was sixteen years old, he was appointed into the king’s court. He was targeted by fellow men who trained with him, imitated by his careful posture and scowls. They offered him to King Stephen, to protect and honor him from enemies of war. He’d kill innocents for his king, he’d kill those who commit sins for his king. He’d kill his own for his king.

In the course of his final years on Earth, he’d fight for the man who taken everything away from him. His innocence, his home and his _dignity_. There was no fault to his schemes, Shane knew that the peasants praised him. He’d kill for the king, yes, but his faithful citizens would call him their lord in the end.

At one point in time, when he had turned twenty seven, he’d caught the eye of a woman. One of the women in King Stephen’s court who cared for Shane when he returned injured from war, she fed him and vigilantly honored him. She was like every other person there who loved him, she was no different. Yet, she loved him enough to bare his children when they set to wed.

Her name was Zsófia, a woman with brown tangled hair, damaged skin and a smile he could spot from miles away. She wasn’t fearless, yet she claimed him as hers and he desired a son to carry on his name, he would protect her from harm for that reason alone. Throughout the years, whispers in the night—her promising him of what could be, what they _should_ be—were all Shane had with her with no intention to fall into the unruly aid of love.

(No picture, no image to remember her by. And years would pass as he forgotten what she had looked like, what she had _been_ like.)

It wasn’t until the eve of his birthday, turning twenty eight and growing old alongside his king, he’d find his peasants no longer praising him. They did not call him _lord_ , they did not fall to their knees upon looking at him. They ignored him, casting him aside in disgust upon the announcement of their _real king’s_ courtship with a women they did not know of.

It was then, he began to plan his revolt.

 

* * *

 

**POLAND, 967**

Shane lowered his head, unwashed hair fell onto his eyes, hindering his efforts to pounce on his prey, despite this, Shane never moved. He swallowed the urge to lift a hand to adjust his uniform—he mustn’t move or breathe. He must continue to stay utterly quiet.

He narrowed his desolate brown eyes, his attention emphasized on any noise that he’ll hear, a snap or a twig or the sound of someone’s shoes on fallen leaves.

He did not hear a sound for what seems like hours, omit for the a baby’s cry from his village. Keeping his head partially down, he raised his chin high enough to catch his surroundings; a spacious meadow, trees dispersed around but scarce enough for him to locate any target.

He crouched on the moist grass, fatigue crawled through his limbs and the humidity attached his hair onto his pale forehead. And yet, he continued to stare, a hand on his leather sheath and with a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, fingers stroking the engraved marks and ready to attack.

Shane counted the minutes until the subtle movement of somebody’s footsteps across the field overwhelmed his eardrums. Pleased, he smirked and squared his shoulders before he stood up to scare the man to death. He’s successful as he heard the abrupt shriek belonging his friend next to him. Shane released his intense grip of the sword’s hilt and laughed.

“You alert everybody when you are frightened,” he spoke in Polish, his words smoothly flow out like poetry. “You’d die instantly in the battlefield.”

His friend, Adam, gave him a terrified scowl and shrank away from Shane. He’s grown paler, trembling in his wavering stance and Shane’s scare had managed to mute him. Shane opened his mouth to taunt with a silly remark until Adam jerked an unsteady finger towards the town. He held his breath, muttering no word and continued to point to the distant town.

Shane furrowed his eyebrows, his hand instinctively ached for his sword. Adam let out a harsh breath, unaware that he’d been holding it. And Shane realized that he had been running here… he wasn’t afraid of Shane. Something happened in the town.

“Adam, are you well? By… speak boy, what has happened?” With no reply to him, Shane took Adam’s shoulders in his hands and he shuddered in his hold.

“King—King—” Adam stammered and fidgeted. Shane lost his patience and shook the boy vigorously.

“Do not stutter. Speak clearly. What has happened?” Shane repeated, his fingers tugging on the boy’s uniform. If it wasn’t noticeable that Adam was scared out of his wits from his inability to speak, one would blatantly know from the indication of his heart beating recklessly.

Adam did not reply to Shane and he cursed under his breath, shaking the boy once more. “Adam!”

“King Stephen has returned!” Adam shouted, his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths and gave him a sidewards glimpse. “He—he requested to marry Zsófia at once.”

“What?” Shane let out a mirthless chuckle, releasing Adam and walked towards the town.

“My Lord,” Adam’s voice trailed behind, “you must not do anything dangerous! She will not agree to—”

“It does not matter if she agrees,” Shane replied assertively and curled his lip when his town is a step closer than before. His mind is elsewhere but his heart hammered maddeningly in his chest.

He almost felt as if he would be too late and he’ll find his future wife married to the man he loathed. “He would not care. He will kill her if she denied his request. He’s mocking me—” He fetched his sword, the piercing noise of metal against his leather sheath excited him and his frown slightly diminished. “We must kill him now.”

“R—right away?” Adam hesitated behind him.

Shane doesn’t answer, he doesn’t answer as his shoes pivot on the cobblestone of the town square. He doesn’t reply when he noticed the town void of its citizens, nobody but guards stood in his way.

It was an ambush. He didn’t reply when he looked over his shoulder to Adam’s stricken pale face, recognizing the cue for _gather the army and prepare them for battle_.

He doesn’t speak when swung his sword at the first guard. When the sudden penetration does not cut him in half, Shane wrenched the sword from the man’s flesh and decapitates him.

The man’s blood warm on his skin and heard the slight ringing of his ears along with the _thud_ of the head he had just cut off. From the corner of his eye, he watched another guard move, but he’s quicker.

He knew that he were to die, it wouldn’t hurt his pride. Living in such turmoil with his poverty-stricken family was a tragedy, but losing a chance to wed and have no wife to bare his sons to an ungrateful man _repulsed_ him.

Zsófia would learn to live without him by his side or eventually be taken away from him after the matter. But before? Shane’s heart had been crushed already, yet the illusion of his future wife dead by the king’s unruly actions will incapacitate him. He clutched his father’s sword as the swinging slowed to a stop, his fingers reaching to his hair and tucked it away from his face.

A flash of silver appeared before his right side; he dodged the fatal blow and strengthened the grip of his sword. Shane whirled around to see his opponent, a man who his age bellowed Polish slurs at him and Shane watched as terror clouded his expression when he raised the blade.

He sliced the guard in half with the sword he was given and he did not stop—not even when the men he had been training with for years fell to the ground or when Adam was lost and out of his sight—not even when he hid himself to tend to the cut on his bicep.

What had they been fighting for anyway? He’ll be king in a few hours from now, Zsófia by his side and—

When it was over and Shane tumbled on the cobblestone, damp from scattered brain matter and limbs. He blinked away the ache of his injury and stood from the ground. His uniform heavier than before as he limped over the bodies of people he’s killed. His own men and Stephen’s men, slaughtered by his own hand. And all he could do was smile as he staggered.

He spotted the townsfolk first, their eyes wide as they caught the sight of a mangled Shane in front of them. They didn’t speak a word but he was sure they had marveled in astonishment. Something in the back of Shane’s mind told him, _screamed and begged_ him to kill them all, too.

He ignored his own hostility and searched for Zsófia among the gathering crowd. His legs took him from house to house, store to store and by the end of his stride, he reached the conclusion that she was in the castle.

On his endless walk up the hill, he realized that his mother was not among the crowd.

 

* * *

 

He walked across town, the state of his injury in his bicep kept him stealthy, slowing down his steps one by one. To him, it’s ironic that he’d take his value time to fight for what’s rightfully _his_ and yet, he doesn’t fight himself.

His sword, concealed by fresh blood and matter by his side. The metal tip scraped pebbles on the ground, creating a ear-splitting sound that resonated as he walked. He grinned, _it’s like he’s announcing himself to the king_.

He might die. Everyone dies. But he’ll die with his king’s head in his hands.

He thought of nothing when he’s in front of double doors, secured by a meek piece of hardwood across. He released his sword, and let it fall to the ground with a clunking noise and grabbed onto the wood. Harshly, he pulled it backward and _breathed_. He pulled the wood once more until the doors swing open. Then he’s reaching for his father’s sword.

With a cry, he slaughtered two men. Their blood thrown to the air and splattered on Shane’s robe, they fall as Shane passed by them wiping off their blood that had gotten on his forehead with grimy fingers.

He was inside the king’s castle, a courtyard that held upon the preeminent of festivals. Shane would had missed the celebration by patrolling around the area. Now he’s knew why, it was all leading back to Zsófia.

Walls surround him now, constructed by the craftiest of men and fabrics of gold distributed in elegance hung from the stone walls. Stairs that Shane had climbed countless of times, made of bronze and would be home of his unceremonious inauguration.

King Stephen stood there, hands intertwined and in Shane’s line of sight. He’d thought of cutting them off first, such delicacy in a man that _begged_ another to kill others for his own health. The king did not falter in his posture, he kept his ground and squinted eyes glared at Shane. He was waiting, he was _taunting_ him.

Shane took one step forward when his mother came into view. Her slender form succumbed to the robes she wore, shielded him from the King’s nauseating gaze. She was upset, but she looked unharmed.

Shane narrowed his eyes from her and to the king. He didn’t have the chance to touch his own mother when she’s struck by an arrow to the chest.

She made no noise, no sound came out of her gaping mouth. Her eyes rounded in shock, pupils undeviating from Shane’s own. In his own stupor, he watched as she fell to the ground, knees first and landing on her side before letting out a soft whimper.

Shane took one devastating look at his mother before turning to the king. He’s made no sign of moving towards Shane nor does he seem sorrowful over Shane’s mother. He’s the one who had brought her to die, he brought him here to—

“Traitor,” Stephen spit out, his mouth forming into a scowl. “Your bride will die next if you take another step.”

Shane, caught by disbelief of what had occured before his eyes seconds prior, tightened the grip on his father’s sword as his mother is dying—she’s—

He forced himself to not stare, to _not_ cry. To do anything but look at his dying mother in the eyes. Hers that had been so bright, the eyes that he had inherited from eyes that he’ll never see again—

He walked, the scowl on his former king’s face dissipated. Shane let him show any kind of emotion that he wanted as his legs took him up the stairs, leaving behind nothing but a trail of his mother’s blood on the stone. If he were to kill Zsófia, he would have done so now—he would have done it when Shane was outside, when he wasn’t looking.

Shane doesn’t get a chance to plunge his sword into his enemy, he groaned in agony and searched for the injury in his forearm. An arrow pierced through his reddened flesh, sticking out like a thumb and he ripped it out furiously.

He does not back down yet, not until another arrow striked through his throat. His fingers loosen around the hilt of his sword and watched as it fell beside him.

He dropped to his knees, his hands cowardly trashed his neck where his vocal cord had been struck viciously. He cannot speak, he wouldn’t be able to for the rest of his life if his king wished to let him suffer. It would be his punishment.

Shane lifted his chin as best as he could without the excruciating discomfort following behind. He locked eyes with his king, where there is no sign of hesitation in his, no sign of doubt that he wanted Shane dead from the start.

Repulsive blood gathered in his mouth, staining his teeth and traveled from his chin to the cobblestone. His warm blood is everywhere, _everywhere_ from his hands to his clothing. His bloodshot eyes refocused on his king and embraced death’s door patiently.

Stephen moved then, crouching down and reached for _Shane’s_ sword. He held his tongue and thrusted his father’s sword into Shane’s chest. A nauseating tearing of his flesh is heard from Shane’s broken body as the sword missed his heart only _vaguely,_ puncturing his bone and his surrounding organs, leaving him speechless in the hands of his enemy.

He’d have her, he’d have her, he’d—

Shane doesn’t remember what happened after he’d succumbed to his injury.

He opened his eyes when a devastating call of his title was heard, a chanting of _lord, my lord, no my lord, please_ around him but he only saw the sky. Dispersed clouds in the afternoon, the sun rested by the horizon and colors of bright orange and pink gleamed. Beside him, he felt the flowers he’d pick with—

Shane never knew what those flowers were named after, they had been white and a herd of them in a meadow was lovely to see even with—

His blood had coated each flower that he laid on; it had to be a metaphor for something. Anything.

In reality, he was dying because of the massive sword plunged through his chest. It had hurt to breathe, it was agony to _move_. For Shane, he had never experienced physical pain that intense, every scrap of metal against his ribcage or his heart beating for the last time.

One of the moments Shane remembered most was the final word he’s heard. It was not a whisper, it was a shrill cry of his name, _his real_ name from a woman. Had it been Zsófia? Had it been her and she survived and escaped for him? Had she—

In a meadow, Shane closed his eyes and prayed God to take him peacefully. No longer had he felt his father’s sword inside of him, nor did he feel maggots crawl onto his decomposed body. He felt nothing, he felt nothing when he opened his eyes.

The sound of his name—

 

* * *

 

**CALIFORNIA, 1990**

Los Angeles isn’t his favorite place to visit or to live. It was, in many ways, noisy.

Every person in the metropolitan area had a grudge against Shane and set up a secret meeting in the sewers below to create the most deafening, _annoying_ of sounds they possibly could in his direction. Jokes on them, he was superior in tuning people out, centuries of listening to people’s endless bullshit does that to someone.

He just—he had to move.

They begun to suspect _something_ of him in New York as he never aged. For a man living there for over fifty years, you would believe to have grown gray hairs earlier in the Big Apple. Not Shane, he didn’t think he was capable of doing so anymore.

He moved when he fulfilled his newly found goal. There, he was Dave. He studied the arts of Italian literature for the fifth time in his life and painted nude models in a University too expensive for anybody to afford.

(He managed to run out of there without paying all of his debts anyway.)

Los Angeles was next on his list, right before Barcelona and _squished_ between a question mark _New Orleans_. He’s lived in New Orleans before. In the 1920s. And it was fun, exhilarating perhaps. Too much excitement could be harrowing on your undead heart.

He’s counted, Los Angeles would be the first city he’s never visited twice. It’s all new, as last time he _was_ here it wasn’t Los Angeles, but land taken by the California Gold Rush. Fuck, what a time.

The city was modernized with advertising, beaches and _Hollywood_. Shane would be concerned terribly if there wasn’t a sign pointing him to the closest fast-food chain in a mile radius.

(Maybe he’ll find _them_ here, maybe they’ll work at a McDonald’s and Shane would ask them to remove the sword clinging to his chest so he’ll die with a Big Mac in his stomach. As if, his soulmate would despise him if he knew who he was.)

Searching for a new apartment was the easiest part in his five-step program, but establishing a made-up tale as to _why_ was the challenge. He thought of naming himself Matthew, for the fun of it. Maybe he’ll become an athlete—no, he was too tall for that and basketball wasn’t his favorable sport.

He’s alone, sitting atop of a billboard with the words _investment is great!_ carved around it. A cool, rainy night in November and cradling a hot drink in hand.

The hot drink was stale. Revolting on his sensitive taste buds and Shane knew that he had been scammed by the corner store employee. All he wanted was a coffee… he got one… full of sugar and no bitter taste. He took one last gulp, letting himself to confirm that he’s actually been tricked into thinking that he’s not allowed to have fun in Los Angeles with authentic Los Angeles delights.

He’s been tricked. The coffee never changed.

He sighed and placed his outdated coffee cup next to him on top of the billboard. He swung his legs along to Los Angeles’ humidity—it’ll be winter soon… he reminded himself. He’d stick around a bit longer before considering New Orleans.

He looked around, cars skid on the rocky roads, skyscrapers in the distance had been the only light in the city as of now, considering that it _is_ late here and that people are asleep anyway. He’d always been a late owl, his sleeping habits when he was living in Chicago never left him.

Shane’s about to toss the terrible, poor excuse of a coffee off the billboard he’s on when the wheels of a car sliding on damp concrete invaded the tranquil quietness. Where Shane sat, he heard more than he needed to, the tires skid off on the side of the road and the driver stepped immediately on the breaks.

It had been too late from where Shane was. A sound like that must have caused a terrible accident echoed into the night. It’s not like people had caution as they drove. He’s seen it happened frequently, people ruthlessly dying over something so small, so—

Shane glanced towards the car, he squinted as his eyes swiped through the vacant neighborhood. _Ah, I see._

Someone lay on the pavement where the car initially stopped.

Shane gave the driver a quick scowl when they open their car door and looked around for who he’s hit. When he spotted them, his stance grew tense. Shane doubted that he’d call for help. He watched as the man stepped back into his car and drove away in the frigid rain.

Leaving whoever he’s hurt behind.

Shane clicked his tongue and fell off the billboard. He landed next to the beaten figure, their form upsetting to look at. It’s indeed the body of a woman, rolled over to her back as she wailed and frantically gasped for oxygen into her lungs.

Her eyes wide as they possibly could be and hands squirmed a top of her lower stomach. Shane kind of wanted to tell her that it’s no use and her rib is sticking out of her skin. But he doesn’t think that she’s worried about that, she’s _searching_ for something.

No, she’s trying to cradle something. She’s pregnant.

A pregnant woman who is dying.

At first, Shane is taken back. He doesn’t dare to move closer or further away. He can only stare at the woman who is now coughing onto the ground. Her lips blue, pupils dilated as her eyes met Shane’s own. He heard her exhale but does not try to touch nor speak to him. She continued to dig her fingertips into her stomach.

“I-I, okay—” Shane stumbled on his words trying to form any kind of sentence, _anything_ , but this woman is undoubtedly dying in front of him. What can he possible say here?

He’s certain that if this woman is pregnant, then her baby must have passed away. An accident like hers, the percentile of the baby’s survival was cut short. So, what the hell would he do now?

Shane knew that he should not mess with death. He’d been scolded for centuries for resurrecting human beings that he knew and trusted.

The consequences of saving this woman’s life are not only on his hands. They were also on hers. She will die in time, with or without her baby. She held a portion of fat in her stomach for dear life, where the child would have been. The twinkle in her eyes began to vanish as she opened her mouth and let out a incoherent whisper.

He _really_ shouldn’t.

He should walk away now—

“Ryan.”

Shane pressed his lips together, his backward steps faltered as her blood spread out onto the concrete. She’s dead, eyes wide open as rain hit the side of her face.

Damn _, he really shouldn’t._

He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbed his stubble in thought. Just this once.

He gawked at the woman, her chest still and Shane can no longer hear two faint heartbeats. He relaxed and pivoted to her side. He kneeled on the damp concrete, soaking his bony knees and held his palm to her sweaty forehead.

He cupped her forehead, his fingers tangled in her bangs. “Don’t hate me for this. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone die today,” he said softly to her.

His hand glistened, yellow specks of stars danced around his fingers and into the woman’s body. They travelled to her stomach first, healing her baby before the woman. Maybe that’s what she would have loved to ask for from him, if she knew who he was.

It happened in a blink of an eye; one moment he felt neutral and the next, he was felt _strange_. Not just strange, but imaginary, he felt as if he wasn’t supposed to do this.

(Obviously, he was breaking hundreds of rules.)

No, it felt like he wasn’t supposed to save _this_ women in particular. He casted those thoughts away as soon as they appeared, his attention on the baby he devoted into reviving.

Shane saw it all, her walks into the clinic, her talking to her baby, the pregnant tests. It all happened in non-chronological order, but Shane tied it together.

She’s a teenager and her baby is a boy named Ryan. Her last name Bergara. Now… the baby isn’t smart enough to know what Shane is doing to him and he’ll never know that this strange man in a coat who reeked of stale coffee saved him because he was outside at night sitting on a billboard.

And yet, here he is, wondering if Ryan Bergara would remember him. It’s in the back of his mind, if Ryan Bergara would come to him when he’s older and reach out to him. Maybe a _hey thanks for saving my mother here’s a better coffee than the one you had on that particular day._

(He laughed, it’s the first time he’s laughed in a long, long time.)

When he’s done, he walked away before she can wake up. But he knows she already has because she sobbed in relief.

Shane walked away with a heavy heart. He pushed down the urge to walk back to her and keep her and her baby safe until the baby is born.

He continued to walk and he reached for a doorknob— he’ll go home early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think to update until _at least_ Monday but in celebration of the almost 70 episodes of BFU, I decided what the hell, might as well update! This chapter is a long one, trust me they'll get longer as we go! And also we get to see Ryan! 
> 
> (I might be bias but I love Ryan.)
> 
> Thank you all for reading, now unrestricted as I'm getting used to AO3! Enjoy! Comments aren't necessary but are incredibly appreciated, it's always great to hear from you!
> 
> Just in case: This chapter has minor character death.
> 
> unbeta'd.

**CALIFORNIA, 1999**

Ryan got a new toy for his ninth birthday.

Well maybe, he’s not sure. But he knew his mother stood by the doorway to his bedroom.

She’s probably happy. Ryan could see it now, his present in her hands, wrapped with the decorative paper she used last year. She doesn’t need to surprise him, he  _knows._ He hasn’t slept at all last night because he was just _that_ excited to turn a whopping nine years old.

He kept his eyes shut, slowing his breathing as his mother tiptoed to his bed. He felt the dip in his bed where she sat. Sometimes, when it’s not his birthday or a school night, she’ll lay down with him until he fell asleep. It helped, she hasn’t let him sleep in her bed since he turned six years old (because he wanted his own room… he was a big boy now) and his sleepless nights began from then on.

Ryan never mentioned it to his mom, she’ll get mad at him and tell him that it’s okay to go to to the doctor. But he hates the doctor, they ask him weird questions, give him a silly robe to wear and make him on a cold table. He hates the doctor. The doctor can’t make the ghosts go away either; not even the nice ones that play with Ryan.

His mom touched his hair, fingers lightly brushing his forehead and tucked a lock of his black hair behind his ear. To ‘wake’ him up, she’ll softly tug on his ear. It never worked but he would pretend to wake up to make her happy. On the first tug, he kept his eyes closed, but on the second one he blinked.

Thankfully, it _was_ his mom and not a ghost. They don’t usually wake him up, still it’s scary to see them staring at him from across the room.

His mom is wearing her pajamas, barefaced and hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. (Ryan liked to tease her about her hair being too short to actually keep up, but she doesn’t listen to him.)

“Happy birthday baby,” she mumbled, keeping her warm hand on his skin.

“I got you something,” she added, as if to fully wake Ryan up. His room is near pitch-black, the only light coming from the window where his old bed sheets are hung to hide the broken blinds. (He used to have a nightlight that his mom gave him. He’s a big boy though, he can’t use it anymore.)

Once he sat up, he smiled sleepily and turned his head over to face his mom.

“Mom—” His eyes caught a quick shadow moving from inside his bedroom and out. He peered his eyes on it for a moment, trembling in place from the sudden chill and looked back to the present shoved into his hands.

Just as he thought, it was wrapped poorly with the same paper from last year. He doesn’t mind, he carefully unfolded it to reveal a new _Spider Man_ action figure. It’s not the new one that the boys in his grade have but it’s the best present he could ever ask for.

With a gasp, he draped his arms around his mom. “Thanks mom! I love it!”

He heard his mom chuckle and embrace him, she swayed him and stroked his hair before letting him go. When he rose from his bed to put the action figure with his other ones—

“Oh what’s that? Can I see?”

_No, not so early_.

The kid’s voice annoyed Ryan, he doesn’t like playing with this ghost because he liked to throw Ryan’s toys from his dresser. He always asked him to stop politely and then his mom got mad at him for talking to the bad ghosts.

Ryan held his whimper and ignored the ghost’s request, he hid himself further into his mom’s side when the ghost floated to his side.

_Please, please go away, I’m happy today—_

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Ryan. I just wanted to see—”

“ _No!_ Go away!” Ryan snapped, he tried to as quietly as he could into his mom’s side but it backfired on him and his mom is pulling him away from her.

“Ryan? What’s wrong?” She looked behind her shoulder, squinted her eyes at the empty space. Ryan watched the kid squeal and run towards the opened door and out of his room. She turned back to him when the kid is out of sight, “did you see something?”

Should he lie? He doesn’t like lying to his mom because she’s so nice and she’ll take away peanut butter and jelly sandwich privileges if he does.

“Yes,” he sobbed and rubbed his teary eye. His bottom lip quivered as his mom opened her mouth to scold him, but she doesn’t. She hugged him again and swayed him to the rhythm of her hums. He found it strange, but he didn't stop her to ask if she was upset and instead closed his eyes and curled into her.

 

* * *

 

On his way to school that morning, his mom told him to visit Auntie for breakfast. He understood, they ran out of _Fruit Loops_ and she didn’t have any money to buy more until next week. She left after he did, telling him to stay away from strangers and to walk _only_ to Auntie’s and to school.

He’s wearing his favorite shirt today, an old Spider Man shirt that his mom bought at the mall. That's what she wanted him to believe, even if his nine year old brain knew that Auntie bought it at the store that sells used things. He liked to go there sometimes, he once bought his mom some kind of makeup thing with the quarters he found in the couch of their house.

Ryan walked alone on the sidewalk, kept his head down and _only_ looked up when he’s about to cross the street. There isn’t a lot of people this early in the morning were he lived. His mom said it’s because nobody in that part of town goes to school or because they’re too _old_ to go to school. He agreed, he never saw any other kid around this part other than the ghosts that follow him everywhere.

There’s one following him now, it’s a girl this time. She’s wearing a school uniform and a backpack, and Ryan could have been fooled to believe that she was also walking to school. She’s always around this part of town with her uniform and backpack but she never followed him all the way to Ryan’s school.

“Hey Helen,” he greeted her, waved to the girl across from him. She looked up and waved back. Sometimes she doesn’t like to talk to other people and that’s okay Ryan doesn’t like talking to other people too. Unless it’s his mom, then he _has_ to talk about everything because it’s his _mom._

“Are you going to school, Ryan?” Helen asked, he almost missed the question since she spoke softly. He nodded, and told her that he’s going to Auntie’s first and that he got a new toy. He’s reaching over his shoulder to show her, when she stopped.

“You’re going to—” Her face paled, blinked at Ryan’s direction before sprinting back into town. It wasn’t like they were far from his house, but why would she—maybe she forgot something? Or maybe girls don’t like to see action figures.

Shrugging, Ryan continued to follow the path to the bridge where his Auntie was. It’s never that far of a walk, so his mom always lets him go and visit her all the time.

Auntie’s cool, she doesn’t give him gifts like his mom but she tells him stories about her life and her son that moved far, far away. Mom said that Auntie was around since he was born, that she helped care and feed him to the strong boy he is now. (He believed her, because he can pick up his mom a good one centimeter off the ground.)

Ryan saw Auntie before the bridge, she’s holding a bag and walking slowly in front of him. He ran to catch up with her and took the bag to carry for her. Auntie gasped in surprise before she saw Ryan’s toothy smile looking up at her.

“Ryan!” Auntie huffed and held her hand up to her chest. “Mijo, you scared me.”

“Morning, tía _._ ”

His spanish was rusty because his mother didn't speak it fluently. Though, he _knew_ to call her that whenever he could. He held Auntie's heavy bag (it’s only a little heavy because he’s strong) in his hands and carried it for her to her usual spot.

It’s a nice day to sell things like this outside. Los Angeles, where he lived, isn’t cold during the fall when he starts school again. He doesn’t have to wear a thick sweater until December because it rains a lot then.

The river’s current under them flows gently, hitting rocks here and there, and he felt trickles of water on his skin whenever he’s near the fence.

“Sit, Ryan,” Auntie beckoned him. She’s wearing her favorite dress today, not the same one from yesterday but it’s yellow and has pretty flowers on it. Her hair is down and tangled and everytime the wind picks up, it gets in her face. It’s kind of funny, he bit down his tongue to hold his laugh and sat down next to Auntie.

Ryan helped her with the jewelry she’s selling today and she gives him bread wrapped in a napkin. She called it _pan_   _dulce,_ sweet bread and it's what Ryan ate for years as a gift for his birthday or holidays. Pan dulce _is_ sweet, and must have lots of sugar in it but she tells him not to tell his mom about it.

“It’s your birthday right? How old are you now? Six?” Auntie joked, taking the empty napkin from Ryan’s hands.

“No!” Ryan let out an exaggerated laugh, “I’m _nine_ now! I’m an big boy!”

Auntie sighed, “yes, mijo. I remember when I held you in my arms, you were a small baby.”

She helped Ryan stand up, picking up his backpack for him. She’ll always mess with the strands of his backpack to keep it from falling off his shoulders, it’s useful because he can’t do it by himself sometimes.

“Do you want me to walk you to school?” She asked nicely, “I know kids can be mean to you—”

“No, tía, It’s okay,” Ryan shook his head, if he had her drop him off to school then the kids would tease him about it. “They don’t make fun of me anymore. If I don’t talk to the ghosts, they don’t bully me.”

Auntie grew quiet, nodded her head as Ryan began to walk away. He’s about to turn around when he felt her nimble fingers on his shoulder.

“Ryan, mijo,” she sighed, and crouched in front of him, both knees on the pavement. “Come to me after school, okay?”

Ryan blinked, “but… mom was going to make a cake for me, she said… why?”

His mom promised that this year she’ll come home early to make him a chocolate cake and spend all afternoon with him. She knew that he hated being alone during his birthday, so she wouldn’t lie to him ever.

“She told me to tell you,” Auntie explained, she looked upset. “She’ll… be working late today, so come here and we can have fun okay? Mijo?”

Ryan hated crying, he hated how it made him feel after and he hated that he couldn’t control how much he would cry. He was a big boy now, he was _nine_ and big kids never cry. But knowing that his mom didn’t keep her promise to spend time with him on his birthday was making _him_ upset that he considered missing school.

All Ryan did was nod, and continued his way back to school where he’ll wonder why his mom lied to him. Helen returned to his side when he’s closer to his school, she’s never done that before but it doesn’t matter now because his mind is somewhere else. Maybe since Helen is here, he won’t be alone on his birthday and maybe they’ll have fun together.

Ryan made it to his school’s courtyard and looked around if any of his classmates are around before turning to face Helen. He’s about to greet her when he noticed that she’s not alone.

Behind her is a group of kids, equally dressed with backpacks and ready for school. They’re all ghosts Ryan’s seen before, by his house or around his neighborhood. He’s never seen them all at once. Ignoring Helen’s unhappy eyes, he made his way inside of his school building alone.

 

* * *

 

As promised, he went to Auntie’s after school. Ryan spent his afternoon with her, talking about their favorite movies. (Auntie said that she likes cartoon movies like he does. He thinks that she’s just saying that to make him happy.)

Ryan ended up making his mom a necklace made of broken fragments from jewelry that Auntie couldn’t put back together. It’s lousy and isn’t the pearl necklace she’d always wear but he’s sure that she’ll love it.

He left Auntie alone when the sun sets and walked along the sidewalk with Helen behind him. She was with him most of the day (except when he was with Auntie today) and did not say a word. Ryan thought that she was lost but she’s a ghost and ghosts don’t get lost by themselves unless they want to. Helen leaves when he got to his gate, opening it cautiously and locking it like mom said.

If he’s right, his mom must be at home now. And judging from the delicious smell of chocolate filling the air, he’s right.

“Mom, I’m back!” Ryan announced, thinking that his mom was in the kitchen, instead, she sat in the living room couch and cradled a small frosted chocolate cake in her lap.

She smiled when Ryan walked inside of the house and did nothing more than to hold out the cake towards him. He doesn’t move from where he’s standing, something held him back from sprinting to his mom and asking why she didn’t want to spend time with him today.

“Hey baby,” his mom greeted, voice hoarse like she’d been crying. “Happy birthday.” She pushed the cake towards him one more time and when he kept his ground, she raised her hand and motioned him to sit next to her.

Hesitant, he sat next to his mom. It’s like opposite day, she isn’t as warm when he would sit with her in the afternoons and she looked really pale, he could see her veins bulging out from under her eyes. Had she forgotten her sweater or something?

“Mom, are you okay?” Ryan asked wearily, he did not bother to look at the cake, the way his mom looked worried him. She would hover over him whenever he was sick and if she was sick, she’d need him to take care of her until she got better. He hadn’t made chicken noodle soup in his life, though he knew that it came in a can sometimes.

“Yes,” she answered and let out a laugh. “I’m tired from working all day… sorry I missed your birthday, you must be angry.”

“No—”

“I got you your real present, Ryan,” she interrupted, sad eyes squinted from her smile and placed the cake on the table in front of her. It was then that Ryan realized that there was a bag beside her, this time it was one he’d never seen before. She must have gotten it while he was gone.

“Mom, you don’t have to give me another present. The first one was good enough.” He’s not lying, he’s happy that he got a new toy to play with and he doesn’t need another present.

“I have to,” she weirdly responded. Ryan isn’t sure if she’s speaking to him or not.

Digging through the new present, she took out a red scarf, knitted, soft and new. “It’s going to get cold soon and you don’t have a scarf. So, I saved up a few bucks to buy you a new one.” She silently wrapped the scarf around his neck, twisting each strand around his neck until he can feel the warmth swallow him up.

“You can’t get sick, you’ll wear this every day when it’s starting to get even the slightest of—” But Ryan’s not listening anymore, he let his mother speak to him and explain herself why and how she bought the scarf he was given seconds ago. There must have been a reason to buy this so suddenly, how could his mother forget? He had five scarves in his closet, all of them in various colors that she’s bought when he was little.

Ryan felt tears well up in his eyes, why were his mom’s fingers so cold? _Why were they so cold?_

“Mom,” he swallowed, she had stopped talking at one point and only observed him. She was watching him, as if it were the last time. “Mom… are you—”

“Baby, yes, I’m okay. I said I was tired, right?”

_Then why are you so cold, mom?_ He wanted to accuse her as to why, _why_ , _why are you so pale? Since when do you have a scar on your cheek? Why aren’t you facing me?_

“Are you dead?”

Ryan’s mom didn’t reply to his question, she’s still on her own couch with her son. Ryan’s scared because he’s going to be yelled at or that his mom really is dead and he’s not seeing _her_ but the ghost version of her.

Her eyes searched every part of him, he’s afraid that she’s just thinking of the right words to scold him with. Maybe, she is tired and he’s annoying her.

That doesn’t stop him from asking once more. “Are you dead, mom?”

This time, his lip quivered and she reached for him the second that he let out a wimpy sob. Ryan didn’t feel the same warmth he does when she hugs him. Nor does he feel that she’s actually touching him. Her arms are jelly around his body, they don’t seem real at all and her hands don’t reach his neck the way they should be. It’s like they go through him.

_No. No, please_ , _not my mom._

Ryan cried a lot. He cried on his nonexistent mother’s shoulder.

Sobs wrecked each fiber of his body until he’s sure that he ran out of tears to cry. His mom isn’t answering his question; she doesn’t have to anymore, he knows that she is dead and that she will disappear when he turned away. Somehow, that makes him bawl louder, throwing his entire body near hers and what’s left of what he can touch.

The red scarf around his neck makes everything ten times worse. His body grew hotter and redder, but she remained as frozen as ice. Ryan’s eyes grew heavy afterwards, feverish eye sockets swollen from excessive rubbing and an awful headache that even Tylenol couldn’t fix.

“Ryan,” his mom uttered out, and all of his fears from before returned in a wave of emotions. His head swirled with words that she might say and he had no time to think about how to react to _anything_ before she pulled him away.

“Please, listen carefully to me. This is not your fault,” she added hastily, she wants to tell him everything that she can before she leaves forever.

“Mom,” Ryan wept, his voice raspy, his hands moves to her transparent shoulders. “Mom _please_ , you do not have to leave.”

“Yes, I do,” she confessed, her eyes downcasted. Her fingers touched the strands of his black hair, he didn’t feel her ghostly fingers at all, yet leaned into her cold touch. “Yes, I do. I have to leave for you baby, it’s all for you—”

“Mom, _please_ you can’t leave me,” he repeated desperately, Ryan’s cheeks were covered in his dried tears, he let new tears to flow freely.  

“You’ll be okay right?” She ignored him, “you’ll be okay.”

“Mom… _”_

“You’ll find Auntie,” she fixed his scarf, wrapped it tightly around his neck again. Her hands faded through the cotton easily, “you’ll find Auntie,” she repeated, her voice shaking as she smiled. “Tell her I was—”

“No— _mom—”_

"Tell her I was at—at work Ryan,” she chuckled bitterly, “I got in an accident at work. Don’t ask to call the police, okay? When I’m—Ryan, run, pack your clothes in your backpack and run straight to Auntie’s. Don’t go anywhere else, go to—”

" _Mommy_!" Ryan shouted, his throat ached from it’s intensity and rendered him speechless from how loud his yell was. He’s never raised his voice at her.

His mom stared at him stunned as her son shouted at her, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips tightened. Ryan doesn’t remember the last time he’d called her mommy. He was a big boy, he had no right. But he wasn’t Ryan without his mother, the rules didn’t apply today.

“Mommy. _Please_ ,” he’s crying once more, choking on his tears and she let him. “Don’t leave me mommy.”

He doesn’t face her anymore. Crying into his hands on his side of the couch, if he’s unlucky, he’ll look up to his mom gone and away forever. The thought alone scared him.

What will he do now? He needed his mom, he loves his mom, what would he do without her in his life? Who will hug him when he saw a ghost in his window? Who would feed him peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches? Who will love him like she always had?

“Ryan. I’m so sorry, baby,” he heard her apologize, muffled through the scarf that’s covering his ears. “You’ll understand when you’re older—”

“How?” He asked through tears, “who will tell me?” That’s a mean thing to say to her, this isn’t her fault as much as it is his. But he would never know why she _died_ unless someone else told him why.

“Ryan. I love you.”

_I know. I know, me too. This is why it’s so hard to say goodbye._

Ryan hiccuped, his throat is starting to hurt a little more from crying relentlessly. “I love you too, mommy.”

She smiled like she always does, pearly white teeth that’s only meant for him all the time. His mom leaned over and kissed his forehead, holding his cheeks with her fingers like she does during bedtime. “Close your eyes Ryan.”

Ryan nodded and closed his eyes. He felt his wet eyelashes on his cheeks along with his mom’s icy fingers; he imagined himself in his bed and she’s only putting him to sleep. When he doesn’t feel her fingers anymore he imagined that she’s gone to sleep in her bedroom. He told himself that he heard the _click_ of the light switch and the _goodnight, I love you_ whispered to him as she left.

He played the scenario in his mind until he opened his eyes and found the couch empty. It’s only him now, his chocolate cake left discarded on the living room table and next to it—the necklace he made for his mom, left untouched.

 

* * *

 

Ryan did what his mom told him to do: he ran.

They once had to move houses when he was six because they got kicked out of their old one. She told him that he should only take his clothes, shoes, and toothbrush when he goes somewhere new. It wasn’t that he had a lot to begin with, he packed his school backpack with as much of his things as he could. He left his homework on his bed, maybe Auntie will bring him back to get the rest of his things.

But tonight, he can’t sleep alone in this house.

He tilted his head when he’s at the front door, looking at the cake again silently. Ryan covered his mouth with the red scarf and went outside. He took two steps in his front yard when he heard the gate open. Panicked, he looked around for anywhere to hide, but his yard was full of dead flowers and his old bicycle casted away on the side with a flat tire.

“Ryan, where are you going?”

Ryan raised his chin up at the sound of his name. A woman stood near the gate, wearing a red suit of some kind. Her hair stuck out from the bun she wore, (like the bun his mom wore all the time.)

The woman’s skin is tanned like his and young, and she certainly couldn’t be around this neighborhood. Is she lost? The lady did nothing but stare at him, her lips would twitch now and then whenever Ryan looked around him and to the night sky.

“Sorry… are you lost?” Ryan blinked at the lady, he shouldn’t talk to strangers like his mom said, but this lady knew his name somehow and he didn’t have any other way to get out of his yard.

The lady kept her gaze on him, her eyes are meaner than his mom’s when she’s angry or of his teacher when he’s scolded for laughing too much during lessons.

“Where are you heading?” She questioned him impatiently, her voice stoic similar to the people from his school would sound when there’s a new visitor.

Ryan didn’t want to answer her, because one, he doesn’t know her and two, she looks like she isn’t a nice person. He kept his eyes down to his worn-out shoes, wrapped his arms around himself and noticed that she smiled a little from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know,” he replied, he doesn’t know where to go now other than Auntie’s.

The lady hummed, nodded and stuffed her thin hands into her red pant pockets. Her suit is as red as his scarf, he noticed, it’s a scary red.

“Who are you?” Building up courage, Ryan made eye contact with her. She looked bored and serious, maybe she doesn’t want to be here and she _is_ lost. Maybe she’s mom’s sister? “Are you my mom’s sister?”

“No, I am not your mother’s sister,” she claimed, her lips stained red. “I’m here to take you to her. A little boy like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

“I’m not little…” Ryan frowned, “I’m _nine_.”

The lady scoffed before she erupted into laughter. Ryan felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment as she laughed at him. “Yes. You’re _nine_. You still need to go home.” The woman turned to open the gate and motioned him to follow.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he refused, holding onto the strap of his backpack tighter. “I’m going to Auntie’s—”

“Your mother is dead,” the woman spit out, “a child whose parents are dead has to live with the next living relative. Your mom’s sister lives across town and _I_ am exhausted.”

The lady turned to face him, the strands on her face fall to her eyes and Ryan doesn’t care because she’s mean. “You should be grateful,” she snarled at him and rubbed her temples. “My shift is over and I’m still babysitting you because your mother was unlucky.”

“I want to go to Auntie.”

The woman sighed, “kid, I _am_ Auntie.”

Ryan blinked, his scarf fell off a bit and he moved to readjust it. “What?”

“All your life I had been the one to look after you and your mom because _he_ decided that you—” the lady stopped talking and glared at Ryan. “Come _on_ , mijo. Let’s go. Your aunt is not a patient woman.”

The woman reeled away from him and head out of the gate, unconcerned if Ryan would follow her or not. Ryan, who hasn’t moved from his spot stared at the gate with uncertainty and confusion. In the end, he had no choice right? His mom is dead, Auntie isn’t real and he sees ghosts.

He turned to look at his house, adjusted the straps of his backpack and followed the lady out of the gate.

 

* * *

 

**CALIFORNIA, 2016**

Ryan doesn’t understand Calculus.

No matter how much he’d go over his notes, or his classmates notes, or his own _professor’s_ notes; he’d never get the hang of it. What did it matter anyway? It’s not like he wanted to be a scientist or a mathematician, why is dividing by zero (only _certain_ circumstances) important in _Journalism_? 

In all his years of living on Earth, Calculus would be his downfall. At least, that’s what he told himself during his free time at the library. He’s hunched over his homework, reciting his notes _one_ last time before attempting to the math problem again. He doesn’t even know if the answer is right. But once it’s over and done with, it’s good enough for him.

He’s about to place his pencil down on the table when he heard a faint creak of the chair in front of him.

“Huh, would you look at that,” a voice spoke coyly. “You got it right, maybe you are smart after all.” 

Ryan doesn’t acknowledge the ghost sitting beside him, there’s people around him and they’d taunt him again if he spoke to her. 

It’s Jen today, she’s not accompanied by Maycie or Daysha, which is a point in Ryan’s book. They don’t torment him necessarily, but they constantly follow him around and talk to him. (It’s worse when he forgets his place and _replies_ to them.)

Jen’s his regular, the one who’s behind him whenever he’s at school. Telling off people whenever they gossip about him and talked to him during his lessons. If he hadn’t known she was a ghost, he would have swore in frustration everywhere he went.

It developed into a daily routine between them unfortunately. Jen was younger than him, her thin frame only reached him up to his shoulders. She was a woman with black short hair neatly styled in her usual quiff, wide brown eyes and always wore her favorite green and white shirt.

(Or else, that’s what she claimed. Ghosts don’t change their outfits on the daily after they die.) She looked the same everyday, same face, same outfit, same pale face. Nothing ever changed for Ryan, not for a long time. 

Ryan lowered his head and stared at his journal before he folded the page he was on and closed it. He arranged his belongings into his bag when he heard hushed voices across from him—”do you see him? that's the weird kid, they say he sees ‘ghosts’ and talks to air.” “really? wow how did he get in this school? his family must be rich—”

Beside him, Jen scoffed, standing up when he does too. “What losers. Don’t listen to them Ryan, I think you’re neat,” she said, smiling widely at him.

He shrank away from Jen, _of course you do, you're a ghost_ and frowned at his classmates comments. He turned around to face the set of bookshelves to see the two girls talking about him look over to him, their cheeks blushed scarlet in humiliation as they ran away.

“That’s right!” Jen barked towards their direction, though they can’t hear her. “You oughta run!”

Ryan rolled his eyes but held himself back from laughing. When he walked outside, it’s cold and rainy—just his luck.

It rained nowadays in Los Angeles. Especially during this time of the year, and Ryan doesn’t have much to work with when he’s low on cash to buy a better jacket. He’s been wearing the same denim jacket he bought five years ago and the red scarf his mother left him. Both did a satisfactory job as to shield him from the ceaseless rain. 

He sighed, tugging at his scarf to cover his face and strolled along the cobblestone road. Ryan wasn’t gifted with money, his mother had left him as her beneficiary, to inherit all of her savings and use it as his own. It run dry years ago, when his aunt was kind and didn’t ask anything from Ryan.

Now, at twenty-five, he had no choice only to walk to his aunt's house in the rain. He supposed that taking the bus would be ideal, but he’s not sure if he has any coins left and his card expired a while ago. He’d been busy trying to survive his last year at UCLA that things just… get pushed out of the way.

Not all things though.

A few days from now, it will be his birthday and his mother’s death anniversary. He remembered, he will turn twenty-six years old and she’s been gone for seventeen years. Holding his scarf closer to his mouth, he forced himself not to cry and walked by the empty road before crossing the street. 

His aunt did live across town, where you were a bit richer and could afford air conditioning. It’s not like Ryan needed that, it’s been cold enough for him for the past sixteen years.

Ryan barely remembered what his mother sounded like or how she smiled, but he kept an old picture of her when she was pregnant with him. She was smiling at the time, happy, she even told him how blessed she was to have a child like him.

There was distant memory at eight years old when his mother told him about the time she almost died with him. She was hit fatally by a car when she carried him, yet they both lived with little to no injury. It was strange, but she said that she saw an angel after it happened and he saved them. 

It was insane. However, he _sees_ ghosts. It’s possible that they were meant to die only to be saved by an angel and he encouraged that possibility.  

He’s near his neighborhood when Jen spoke. She usually talkative with him when she walked beside him but today, she’s strangely quiet. “Are you cold Ryan?”

Looking around, he mentally took note of people loitering about and answered quietly. “Yes, a little.”

“That’s not good. Goblin wouldn’t like his betrothed to be cold. Do you want my jacket?” He saw her shuffle off her see-through jacket, the one she’d wrap around her waist and placed it on his shoulders. The second she had done so, the jacket passed through his body and to the pavement.

“I… appreciate the sentiment,” he uttered out and shifted from one foot to the other. Then: “I’m not a goblin’s betrothed.” He turned away to continue his walk and shoved his hands deep in his denim jacket pockets. 

“Of course you are!” Jen huffed, picking up her imaginary jacket and floated after him. “You _are_ his future husband!”

Ryan pressed his lips together, he decided not to reply to her since people are crossing his side of the street now. Blocking her out, he aimed on heading home so Jen would disappear instantly. 

The ghosts that follow him around _insist_ and pester him daily about this goblin guy. They tell him that they’re destined to be married and that he’ll come to Ryan when he’s ready.

Like shit, who is he anyway?

Maycie described him as a tall, handsome man who loves to wear sweaters all the time and Daysha doesn’t bother and honestly told him that he’s an asshole—Ryan is convinced that his version of the goblin is correct, imagining him as a short, grumpy man, green, and a pointy nose. (If he appears in front of Ryan, he’d continue to see him that way anyway.)

One reason why Ryan loathed the ability to _talk_ and _see_ ghosts is mostly because of this goblin asshole. They always go on and on about how powerful and great he is and that Ryan would never be hurt in anyway _by_ ghosts because the goblin would be upset and he’ll—  

It’s _exhausting_. And Ryan is sure he can take care of himself.

“No, I’m not some grumpy old man’s husband,” Ryan argued out of the blue when he’s outside of his gate.

“He’ll be angry you said that,” Jen commented, keeping her distance. 

Ryan smiled at her fading form as he took his keys out of his pocket. “Yeah, make sure you tell my husband I said that.”

“I would never go near him, he’ll _kill_ me if he knew that I know you!”

“Yeah well,” he opened the gate to his aunt’s house, “I’ll make sure you’re on the wedding list when I marry him.” 

He closed the gate on her and walked away with her constant shouting of: _really! i would love to attend! could you imagine a wedding with ghosts, a deity and a human?_  

Ryan giggled in his head, _yeah, could you imagine?_  

It’s warmer when he’s inside of his aunt's house. Out of politeness, he took his shoes off and his jacket. He kept his scarf on just in case. He walked leisurely to his room, making sure that he doesn’t make loud noises to—

“Ryan, are you home?” 

Ryan cursed under his breath and answered, “yes, ma’am.”

“Come here.” 

His aunt is in the kitchen, her apron loosely tied as she cooked whatever it is for her own children. Ryan carefully walked in and doesn’t bother to sit down. He stared at her, she was moving around a lot, twisting her body from counter to the stove. Like this, silent and focused, she looked like his own mother. Black hair tied up and face as soft as hers. “Are you hungry?”

“I… I guess.” _Yes_ , he hasn’t eaten since he left for school hours ago.

“Look for a job and buy your own food if you’re so hungry,” his aunt bitterly suggested, she still isn’t looking at him but she shoved a thermos filled with soup in his hands. “I’ll let you off with soup but eat in your room, my kids don’t want to see your ghost friends.”

“My—I don’t have ghost friends,” Ryan swiftly replied, holding the semi-warm thermos of chicken soup.

“Eat in your room, Ryan,” his aunt ignored him, sending him off with a hand and returned to her cooking.

Nodding, he took the thermos and turned away to his room. At least his aunt is kind enough to give him a spoon so he could eat. He thanked his mother for the food given to him and ate at his desk.

The room he has wasn’t spacious, it had been his aunt’s spare room before he moved in and didn’t have much other than boxes and spare baby cribs. It was enough for him though, a bed to sleep in and a desk for studying (and eating.)

He’s been in this room for sixteen years and counting and haven’t gotten the chance to move out and live on his own. His tuition made sure that he would stay at home and depend on his aunt for everything else.

It was the way he lived now, he hated everything about it. He didn’t want to continue sleeping on a rickety old twin bed in a cold room at his aunt’s house forever but with the way things looked for him, that might be the case.

Ryan tried to look for his mother’s money last time he tried to move out, though it had seemed that he really _had_ spent it all on school. And searching for a stable job was tedious as nobody wanted to hire a full-time student. He did work through his years in high school, having a few bucks to buy his necessities but he was downright broke. 

Placing the empty thermos on the desk, Ryan opened his backpack and began to study. It was a school night, if he studied hastily then maybe he’ll have time to sleep before his classes and job searching tomorrow. That and trying to find himself a present for his birthday.

His aunt used to celebrate his birthday too, but it ended when he turned thirteen when the bank called about his money inheritance sent to him was being delayed until he was eighteen. (He should call the bank sometime to make sure there’s leftover money in his savings for his birthday cake this year.)

Ryan’s an hour into studying when he heard voices through his window. Whoever it is, they’re not stealthy. At least, that’s what Ryan thinks they’re trying to be.

Raising his chin to take a look, he pulled down the sleeve of his sweater to clear away the dust from the window. He’s not surprised in the slightest when it’s Jen and Maycie’s familiar forms. They’re never allowed inside of his house anymore, less inside of his room.

(For once in his life, using the poor excuse of his so-called goblin husband and threatening every ghost he’d come across that if they stepped a foot in his house then he would _tell_ the goblin guy. Ghosts are just that naive.)

Opening the window only a quarter way, he scowled at them. “Can you two leave? Do I need to remind you what happens if you’re near my house?” He warned in a hushed tone, thankful that he had locked the door in case his aunt barged in his room and lectured him about money and jobs.

“You didn’t believe me when I told you about the goblin,” Jen ignored him, smiling as she stood on her tiptoes through his window.

“I _never_ believe you—” 

“I have proof!” Maycie gushed, she rummaged through her coat for something, “my friend got close enough to take a picture of him! If only I could find it—” she scrambled away into the pockets of her coat for a long time before Ryan let out an impatient groan.

“I don’t need proof,I don’t _believe_ in—”

“Ryan? Who are you talking to?”

Ryan panicked, he straightened up instantly and shut the window sill. He ignored the girl's shared _hey!_ and replied to his aunt. “Nobody! I’m reading out loud.”

He stood completely still for a moment before he heard her footsteps begin to walk away from his bedroom. Cursing himself, he opened the window a bit, the cool wind of November hitting him directly in the face. Jen and Maycie’s annoyed expressions speak for the both of them; even as ghosts, they still terrified him. 

“Sorry,” he winced, “listen, could you _please_ leave? I have lots of work to do.”

“We’ll leave!” Maycie agreed and extended her arm to him. Her lithe, pale fingers held a photograph, it was blurry and nowhere near as recognizable. “See! This is your husband! His name is—”

“Hush!” Jen interrupted, silencing her friend. “You can’t say his name! He’ll get _mad!_ "

“Oh please, he doesn’t even know us,” Maycie quipped, rolling her eyes. Her hand remained steady for Ryan but he _really_ can’t see a thing in this photograph. He reached out for it and his hand went through it. “He’ll know we’re _nice_ , he’s only weary of bad ghosts—” 

“Can you two please _leave?_ ”

Jen and Maycie turned their heads at Ryan, synchronized as usual. “Okay,” they nodded nervously, “we’ll leave.” Jen whirled away first, her figure fading away into the night but Maycie stood her ground. With a soft voice, she asked: “Do you want it?”

It took Ryan a minute to understand that she meant the distorted photograph. What would he need it for?

“No, Maycie, I can’t see it. Good night.” He closed the window and doesn’t wait for her to disappear.

 

* * *

 

Ryan’s miserable the next morning. Upon falling asleep on his Calculus homework and woke up grudgingly, he found out that he had been late for his first class. He hadn’t gotten a second to recollect or to change in warmer clothing when he’s running outside to not miss his class. 

It was raining _again_. A downpour fell in Los Angeles, people held their umbrellas and Ryan hid himself deeper into his jacket. As he rushed this morning, he didn’t think about grabbing his scarf for the day; there had been a full on discussion inside of his head to either return back home for his scarf or go to class and forget about it.

He attended his classes cold, soaked and drowsy. When it’s time for him to search for a job, he decided to skip that completely and head back home to take a nap before he passed out on the street. It’s still pouring when he left his school, he borrowed one of his classmate’s jacket with a hood with a promise of bringing it back. Ryan always did, anyway, it wasn’t like he could afford to steal clothes from other people.

Hiding his face with the hood of the jacket, he walked home. It’s quiet when Jen, Maycie, or anyone isn’t around. He doesn’t mind Daysha’s company but it’s ideal when no ghost is around him and lure him to speak to air.

As tired as he is, he recalled a shorter route from his school to his house. (He usually loves the longer route because it gives him time to think without his aunt breathing down his neck.)

It was across a park, trees void of leaves due to autumn’s shortcoming. Leaves left scattered on the pavement, a variety of red, orange, yellow scraped against the concrete like nails on a chalkboard and as Ryan took unhurried steps, they crunched under his shoes. The park was lovely, a bit filthy but tranquil to walk by.

It was times like these, where he missed his mother the most. She’d taken him to parks when he was younger, he’d play on the monkey bars all day if he had the chance. Though, the parks she had taken him to hadn’t been something to be proud about, as they lived in poverty, their parks had been a field across the street from his old house. She made it seem worthwhile, despite what it _really_ was.

His hands instinctively moved to his neck to adjust his scarf, he looked up in confusion and remembered that he had forgotten it. However, as he lifted his head, he accidentally caught the sight of someone else walking through the park.

Ryan noticed first how tall the man had been, face bleak and looking straight ahead. He wore a simple navy blue sweater, his hair a frowled heap as if he’d woken up a few minutes ago and framed glasses on the bridge of his thin nose. God, he was the epitome of a gorgeous man. The man was walking the opposite direction as Ryan and would pass by him.

_Oh god._ Ryan turned away promptly, his cheeks felt a bit warmer than before. He walked slower as the man picked up his pace, holding his own umbrella on top of his head.

_You’re too tall for that,_ Ryan wanted to say, _the umbrella would only bump your head—_

Suddenly, the man turned to him, making eye contact as if he had heard Ryan's thoughts. There’s no visible emotion in his eyes but Ryan felt his heart stop. Everything around him felt as almost a blur as he caught this man’s eyes.

Now that he was closer, Ryan can finally conclude that _yes,_ this man was handsome and his eyes held thousands of undecipherable words to him. The longer he stared, the longer Ryan felt like everything was _okay_ , that he was finally happy.

With that, Ryan looked away from the man and continued to walk languidly beside him. He’s about to pass him when he noticed a faint blue hue resonate from the man’s chest.

It’s not his sweater, but a sword, visible as day impaled through the man’s chest. Ryan held his breath when he saw it, it had been startling and Ryan didn’t expect to see such a thing in the middle of a _park_. Nonetheless, he tried to inspect him before he completely passed him.

Who was he? The man’s body had been clean of blood, he also did not physically look to be in physical agony. 

Then, the man was a ghost. A special kind that Ryan’s never seen before other than ghosts with bruises and blood all over, this man was different but he wasn’t human.

Sighing in disappointment, Ryan instinctively shrank from the man and continued his way through the park; feeling as if someone was watching him until he was out of sight.

 

* * *

 

“Hello? My name is Ryan Bergara and I was wondering if you had a spot available—”

The waiter shook his head, taking a notepad from the counter before he turned to face Ryan. “We’re not hiring, sorry.”

Ryan exhaled and rubbed his eyes before dropping both of his arms to his side in defeat. He wanted to argue and ask them to consider him but he’s been doing that all morning.

Deciding to take a break, he sat on one of the empty booths inside of the restaurant. The place wasn’t that bad, considering that he is near the neighborhood where he grew up in. Renovated stone walls, pristine floors and translucent windows with a sign with the restaurant’s logo. When Ryan first entered, the aroma of freshly made desserts and pastries reminded him that he’d hasn’t had a bite of food all morning. 

With his stomach growling in anticipation, he dug through his pockets for any spare change he had for lunchtime. Considering that he’d only taken ten dollars, he’s only left with eight.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed at the birthday cake displayed on the white marbled counter. It was small, covered in a pretty white fondue with strawberries spread a top of it. It had a sole candle stabbed through its center with a tag attached that read  _seven dollars,_   _today only!_

Could he risk the money for the bus ride home? Maybe he’ll walk home after he had eaten most of the cake.

Letting his stomach speak on his behalf, he called for the waiter again. The man frowned deeply and inched forward, “I’m sorry sir, we really aren’t hiring—”

“Oh, no, no…” Ryan cut him off politely,  “I wanted to buy that cake over there.” He held up a finger at it, his stomach growled once more just looking at it.

Ten minutes later, he’s out of the restaurant, empty pockets but with a blue box decorated with the cutest designs. And inside, his lunch. Ryan didn’t think to make a big deal of his birthday anyway, twenty-six was a just another number, a year older and another year since he’s seen his mother.

Remembering where the bridge where his old house led to, he walked toward that direction. 

The seaside in Los Angeles was livelier back then, he remembered that it used to rain occasionally when his mother took him to see the waves crash into the rocks. Today, it’s not as different, only his mother was not here to scold him whenever he gotten too close to the edge. 

Ryan walked carefully through the rocks, making sure his shoes don’t get caught in between them. Once he’s on flatter land, he sat on his knees, worn-out and hungry. Wind kissed his cheeks and the water from the sea hit his face whenever they crashed on the rocks near him. It’s all peaceful now, but he knew that there’s people around down below and near the pier.

Putting the box down on the rocks, he drew in a harsh breath. “Hey mom,” the waves crashed onto the rocks, “It’s your son Ryan. It’s my birthday.”

No reply, he fumbled with his coat pocket to take the lighter out. He had to borrow one from a classmate, just in case if he wanted to buy a real cake with candles and all. (He had to explain to said classmate that no, he wasn’t smoking or an arsonist.)

“I’m twenty-six now, I’m almost done with school… I’m going to graduate next year and I’ll apply for a job where I could to write stories... like I always wanted, remember?”

Ryan blinked away the salty water hitting his eyes and touched his scarf, caressing the old material with both his thumb and index finger. “I’m going to light a candle for you tomorrow anyway, just as always… uh... I thought to celebrate two events in one day.” 

Ryan opened the lighter’s lid, “I miss you mom. I love you too.” He flicked his thumb on it’s corner, then came the flame, he held it near the candle. “I know you’d want me to wish for something, so—”

He placed the lighter on the ground and intertwined his fingers together. “I would love a job, please. I also want to do well in my classes. And… a boyfriend would be nice.” 

Ryan closed his eyes, leaving him with autumn’s wind and the sound of waves near him. Pretending for one last time that his mother is in front of him, encouraging him to make a wish and blow the candle out. “ _Please_. Give me something." 

He blew on the sole flame.  

He kept his eyes closed for a while. As if expecting something to appear in front of him, or his mother’s ghost will visit him somehow almost two decades later. But nothing happened, not when he’s removing the candle or—

“How did you summon me?”

Startled, Ryan yelped and looked up. He saw a clothed torso and a baffled man glaring at him. He’s wearing a cream sweater, messy brown-ish hair and black-rimmed frames on his face. He frowned at Ryan and rolled his shoulders, “how did you do that?” 

Ryan gaped, rose to his feet slowly to face the man. He’s taller than him and upon inspection he can confirm that it’s the same man he saw days ago. The blade apparent in his chest, a faint aura around it but it faded as soon as Ryan made eye contact with the man again.

“How—huh?” 

“How did you summon me?”

“W… what?” 

“Did _you_ call me?” The man urged, his eyes never left Ryan’s slumped figure, holding his scarf in hand.

“No… I did not.”

The man stopped staring at him for a moment and looked around him. “Are you alone?” 

Ryan nodded, his head is swirled with questions that he wanted to ask. Starting with: _what the hell are you doing here?_ But all he can ask is: “Are you a ghost?”

The man’s gaze turned to him immediately and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No. How did you call me?” 

“I have… no idea what you are talking about,” Ryan told him, “I was just here… are you lost? Are you from around here?” 

“How did you do it?”

“I didn’t do anything.” 

“You just—” the man seethed, “look buddy, I don’t know why you did it—but it would be helpful if you told me _how_ you did it—” 

“I _didn’t_ —I didn't summon you dude, I was just—”

The man guffawed, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut. “Wasn’t it you who— ' _I would love a job. I also want to do well in my classes. And a boyfriend would be nice_.'”

Flushed with how awkward and desperate he must have come across, Ryan nodded his head. “I did say that... but—” 

“Then how did you do it? Are you _one_ of them too?”

“One of _who—”_

“Are you one of _me?”_

“If you’ll let me speak—”

“You’re the same guy I saw days before too…” the man’s expressionless, his eyes coldly glared into Ryan’s. Albeit handsome, he looked at Ryan with frustration. “Are you stalking me?”

“No! _No!_ ” Ryan bellowed, stomping his foot on the rocky ground. Who the hell is this guy? Coming out of literally _nowhere_ thinking that he’d been summoned by Ryan? Also Ryan’s neck _hurts_ from looking up at the man’s face, would it kill him to lean down a bit? “I don’t _even know you_! I don’t know how you got here.” 

The man stared at him for a while longer, maybe trying to see if Ryan’s lying to him. When he doesn’t see hesitation, the man huffed.

“Listen, there’s a restaurant near that park I saw you walk through, it’s called Tasty. The owner is an affiliate of mine, I’ll give them a good word for you. Study everyday for five hours with thirty minute breaks in between. And…” the man shook his head, hiding a smug smile before looking at Ryan. “Don’t go around dating, little guy. Men are troublemakers, concentrate on your studies.”

The man turned his head and extended his arm over to Ryan. He hasn’t realized that he was holding a bouquet of roses. “You can take these, it is your birthday right?”

_Oh, god. He’s certainly blushing now._ Ryan took the bouquet without a word and hung his head, his worn out shoes a bit more interesting than the man who had just given him an entire _bouquet_ of roses.

“Thank you—” he lifted his chin, but the man had disappeared. An empty space replaced where the man used to be and Ryan’s left wondering it had been a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! New episode today! Because I'm excited for the new episode, here's the new chapter! This time we see Shane's side of the story! And a trip to somewhere we're all familiar with... wink wink. Thank you for reading, apologies for any spelling/punctuation errors!
> 
> Like last time, comments are highly appreciated! You're all so very kind. :')
> 
> unbeta'd
> 
> just a heads up: I was scrolling on the BFU tag and I came across [this](http://theshmaylor.tumblr.com/post/176034442706/psa-for-buzzfeed-worth-it-and-unsolved-fic) post; if you're an author interested to have your work as a podfic, I encourage to check this out!

**UNKNOWN**

Shane woke up alone. His skin pathetically pallid and fingers frozen to the touch. His collapsed body was alarmingly still as if he were going through sleep paralysis, watching his body refuse to move whenever he  _tried_  to. Terrified, he turned his head to the side.

_Where am I?_

What was the last thing he remembered?  _Not much._

He remembered lying there right where he was, on top of the white flowers. Modified, he turned his head again to scope out his surroundings, he could see red, all around him and on the field. It was no doubt, his blood. The source of it came from underneath him... was he was hurt?

Shane stirred and pressed his hand to his pelvis, he checked himself for an injury. His wrist bumped the hilt of a sword, it was… his father’s right?

Was he impaled with it? He must have been. His fingers twitched and he reached the fatal gash—his chest. He was stabbed but it didn’t hurt. Not like he had thought it would.

Did he die? How is he still breathing?

His fingers began to tremble, slowly as he looked at the sky, he remembered how everything turned out. How as his last living moments had been the cries of his people and the sound of his name from his beloved’s mouth. He didn’t see them, but he knows that it must’ve been them; they came back for him to see him die.

What was he doing now? Was he actually alive?

Again, Shane squirmed on the soil then onto his elbows to stand. His body resonated in a harrowing ache as he moved. None of his muscles used to  _however_  long he must have laid there, dead. He let out a few undesirable curses to his God and bit his lip.

_Fuck._

He wasn’t even halfway to sitting up when he noticed the sword in his chest glimmered a pulsating blue hue. It was indistinct… but it intensified with every movement he took. As soon as he stood on both unstable legs, the sword was illuminating the area around him.

He could not see a thing, only fields of white flowers and his own blood. The sun must have set, the only light around him was radiating from the sword itself. Shane let out a broken wail, he did die,  _he did die_. Now he’s back, how is he back? 

_You will not rest. You have sinned. You killed. You will suffer._

_You’ll find your beloved now or tomorrow, they’ll pull the sword out. If they love you, you’ll rest._

Was he not allowed to sleep peacefully? Was he cursed? Was he  _cursed by God Himself_?

“Why?”

"You're a killer," was the answer.

He wanted to shout until he’d lose his voice, instead his pleads came out as a strangled sobs from the back of his throat. There wasn’t any tears, only despair of what he had lost. He’ll never see his mother again, he’ll never see Adam again, he’ll never see his people. He’ll have to wait until his lover returns to him. Wherever they might be. 

With one heavy exhale, Shane stood on his frail legs. He stood for a minute before he fell to his knees, letting out another cry. He wanted to ball his fists on the hilt of his father’s sword—the one that’s spiked through his own chest. Shane wanted to rip it out by himself or hold onto it until his fingers grew deadly white, he… he wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. 

_This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. It’s not possible._

_I am cursed._

Shane believed that he must have shouted at the sky, cursing whoever gave him such horrendous gift after he had been  _dead_. After all those years... dedicating his life to his people and his king, this is how he is repaid? 

To live a life where not only his lover might be dead but never get a chance to see them until they wanted to? How many times would he pass by them in his life? Would he wait eternity for them? 

Shane’s bottom lip quivered. His eyes narrowed at the hollow meadow, he devoted himself to find them... to find whoever can free him and not to love them but to beg for their forgiveness and to kill him. Only then he’ll rest easy.

 

* * *

 

**CALIFORNIA, 2016**

Time passed excruciatingly slower in Los Angeles than it did in New York. Ideally, Shane would have moved years prior, though, he couldn’t find any reason to. Apart from freezing beaches, constant humidity, and water tax charging him more than he could take. He was at wits end, one could say.

Yet, Shane found himself in his living room couch, leaning forward and scratched his stubble. He stared at the newly bought  _Mona Lisa_ replica hung on his wall beside his television.

It was the third one he bought, save for the original that was a gift to him and somehow misplaced it a few days after because Shane was just  _that_ uninterested. The painting was dreary anyway, it plead Shane to be thrown away. 

The painting of Mona Lisa isn’t in his mind though, no, no, it was the guy from the day before. A puzzle that Shane couldn't solve, its pieces left scattered on his coffee table and left for him to put them back together.

Why isn’t he out of Shane’s mind?

Shane, a lonely deity, recognized somebody that wasn’t Steven or (god forbid) Andrew?

Some guy from the park he’s been to twice before had  _somehow_ summoned Shane from his own home. 

_Oh god. What if it happens again?_  

“What if what happens again?” 

Shane tilted his head and blinked at the front door.  _Was he talking out loud?_

“The water bill for the month is expensive,” he lied, when Steven looked the other way, he manifested the water bill from the kitchen counter and he threw the piece of paper on the coffee table. “It’s your turn to pay it, you must have been using all of it.”

Steven is his adoptive nephew. Although being at the ripe age of twenty four, Shane is responsible for sheltering and feeding him. He’s tall, with gray-ish dyed hair atop of his thin face and if Shane had been asked, he’s aged well for a child under a deity’s care.

He's kind, thoughtful of others as he took care of Shane more so than  _Shane_  did; took classes at a local community college and worked at a nearby restaurant that sold drunk people food. 

“That’s—” Steven picked up the paper rashly, his eyes skimmed the words and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not  _true!_ We agreed to maximum half hour showers, you and I!” 

“We did,” It wasn’t a question. Shane rose from his seat and Steven followed behind, he’s still in his outerwear, his backpack over his shoulder. Couldn’t he relax before he pestered Shane about anything?

“We  _did_!” Steven nagged, “I take fifteen minute showers! And god knows that you cry out enough rain in Los Angeles for everyone else, this bill is for you!” 

“Ouch bud,” Shane mocked hurt, clutching his hand on his chest. He walked over to Steven and patted his shoulder. “You know that’s not true. I have happy days too!” Smiling, he vanished from Steven’s view to the kitchen.

“Yeah…” Shane heard the rustle of a paper and a muttered curse word. “I know you do. It was raining all season except today, what changed? What did you do?” 

“Yoga.”

“ _Yoga_?”

Shane hummed, “yes, it’s good for you.”

“With those limbs? You couldn’t be flexible if you tried.”

“I wouldn’t judge too early, Steven,” Shane chided, he poured water into a kettle and soberly watched as his water boiled instantaneously. “I’m only a sad man trying to get a hobby—”

“Too old to look for new hobbies,” Steven grumbled. 

“You’re just asking for rain—”

“Okay, okay,"Steven interrupted, waving the paper aggressively. “I’ll pay the water  _this_ month.” He walked out before pointing at Shane, he stuck out his tongue at him before threatening him: “mark my words deity, only  _this_ month.”

Shane grinned at him and stirred his tea with his spoon. He watched him leave to his room before he let out a deep breath.

What’s wrong with him? Does he need to sleep it off?

But how could he sleep off a possible deity in Los Angeles? Who summoned him for whatever reason no less?

Something was wrong with Shane. Thinking about such an... abysmal theory while he’s supposed to be working, he had deadlines, he had clients to tend to, he had— 

The man from yesterday stuck in his head. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Truthfully, this is the first time it’s happened to him. A relationship with anybody else was rare to Shane. Perhaps, he was an antisocial fool and the thought of someone talking to  _him_ other than Steven scared him?

_No, that couldn't be true._

He pondered there in his living room, not moving an inch until he’d resolved this. Mona Lisa’s eyes locked on him as she gave him a scolding glare. Shane could pass off her stare as a torturing device.

He considered through every plausible theory in his head; the man could be a deity threatening Shane vigilantly. The man could be a reaper trying to get Shane’s head. The man could not even  _exist_. The man could be a human…

But how could he summon him?

He stood from his seat, walked to the kitchen again and emptied his cup of tea into the sink. Even if it was three in the afternoon, it was a great time to fall asleep. It was the only solution to think about at this point.

Shane doesn’t make it halfway to his room, a ring echoed inside of his head as it registered a scratchy voice.

_"I wish you were here… I miss you a lot…"_

Great, what now?

Shane kept his eyes on the crude Mona Lisa painting one second and the next he’s standing outside. 

Here’s the thing, this whole summoning thing isn’t painless. He’s developed a headache now and a numbing migraine as soon as he saw the  _exact same_ guy looking at him from the floor. Shane isn’t pleased, he’s about to ask the guy  _why_  he keeps disturbing him when he jumped from the ground.

“What are you doing here?” The guy sniffed, and with the sleeves of his sweater rubbed away the tears from his cheeks before dusting off the dirt of his pants.

He looked… frightfully miserable. With tear-stricken cheeks and groggy swollen eyes, he wiped his nose with his scarf before looking up at Shane with a grimace. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want—” He began to ramble, sniffed again, he lets out a couple of rapid breaths as he tried to explain himself. 

If it hadn’t connected before, it had looked like Shane was summoned in a cemetery. A grave hidden behind the guy’s back, evident that he’s been visiting someone.

“Hey, hey,” Shane consoled helplessly, he waved his hands as if that’s going to stop him from bursting into tears, “don’t cry. It’s… you  _really_ shouldn’t call for me.” 

“I know,” the guy choked out, “I know. I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s going on.” The guy shivered and let out one harsh breath, he tried to calm himself down from breaking down again. It failed and he let out a piercing wail. 

By instinct, Shane lifted his hand as to comfort him. His hand lingered by the guys head before he pulled away. This isn’t his problem, he should leave—

_Do it now, before he cries even louder._

“Don’t summon me,” is what Shane told him and he took a few steps back.

The guy nodded and sobbed into his jacket, “I’m so sorry for bothering you.”

He turned away as the man cried, an unfamiliar noise that Shane didn't think to come across with another  _deity_? God? He wanted to leave because wasn’t that what he wanted in the first place? To get rid of this deity-human-reaper-person who summoned him?

_Why are you still here?_

Aggravated, Shane decided to question him. Shane whirled around suddenly, he took the man’s shoulders in his grip roughly. “What  _are_ you?! Tell me  _how_ are you doing this!”

“D—doing what?”

“Are you a deity? A reaper? Just tell me!” Shane shook the guy, a whimper escaped him before he grabbed Shane’s hands.

“I’m a human!” The guy wailed, his eyes rounded from this sudden treatment, “I’m a living human! If I was otherwise I would be happier!” 

Shocked, Shane watched as the guy in front of him lost it. His cries intensified, tears spilled out of his eyes into his hands and to his red scarf. The guy just lost someone, does he really deserve to be lectured by Shane now?

Mentally slapping himself, Shane took the unknown man into his arms. He wrapped his arms around him securely as he trembled uncontrollably. Shane hushed him, rubbed his back with his palm, did  _anything_ to calm him down but nothing seemed to be working.

The guy flinched against his touch then clung to him like a child would to their mother. He held on to Shane’s limbs, tighter than anyone had embraced Shane before. 

Strangely, Shane felt himself craving human touch. His mind cringed at the idea, yet his body inched further to the man’s shivering form. Holding a human as he cried wasn’t an ideal afternoon for him, but he doesn’t oppose to it either. 

Shane let out a unsteady breath into the guy’s hair, his lips parted against his black hair. The raw emotion didn’t fade away when he eventually spoke softly. “You're lucky to be alive.”

“W—what?” The man uttered out into his collarbone, his breath unusually hot on Shane’s exposed skin.

Shane shivered before he continued, “I doubt that you’d be happy if you weren’t,” still embracing the man to him. He tensed when his arms betrayed him and tried to hide him into his chest. He was the last person to keep a human safe, especially from the outside world. 

“How would you know?”

Shane’s heart pounded out of his chest, his palms grew clammy and his body began to shake, “please don’t summon me again.”

Reluctantly, Shane unwrapped himself from the guy slowly. He looked dreadful and Shane had to convince himself to leave. Without a goodbye, Shane disappeared.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, I’m out!” Steven blurted out, he took lengthy steps over to the front door and grabbed his backpack from the coat rack. “The sky cleared up this morning, thanks for that bud! See ya later!”

Shane watched as Steven opened the door and walked out. He covered his eyes with his palms, it wouldn’t be ten seconds until he’s—

The door slammed open, it’s hinges squealed as it hit the side of the wall. “You asshole,” Steven whispered, he stepped into his house and ran a hand through his damp hair.

Behind him, rain poured over their driveway, each droplet counted for another of Shane’s tears. There was a metaphor somewhere, though he was overly depressed to think of one. “You promised!” 

“Yeah,” Shane breathed out, darting this eyes to the television, images flickered through Shane’s brain without a possibility to comprehend what he was looking at. "Forgot to do my yoga."

Bad,  _bad,_ everything—every single image—was the guy and his crying face and how Shane’s pathetic self yelled at him and left him alone. “Sorry about that.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Steven.”

“Shane,” Steven groaned, exasperated. “It’s a thunderstorm, Shane! I saw our driveway begin to flood!”

Shane pursed his lips.

“Listen, you don’t have to say anything now. Later? You have to stop spreading that negative energy here. It’s bad for my skin.” 

“Steven, just go to class.” The front door swung again, grazing Steven’s side in an effort to push him outside. This was Shane’s doing, he knew that and he dragged his feet closer to the humid rain. 

Steven, defeated, only frowned and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave. I’ll be at work again tonight.” He waited for any reply from Shane, shifted from one foot to another. When he doesn’t receive anything nor a look towards his direction, he grabbed his umbrella and closed the door behind him.

Finally alone, Shane fell back on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands. Something is  _severely_ wrong with him.

He woke up earlier than usual in agony, the wound on his chest pulsated and grief spread through his body to torment him. His body radiated in a vivid blue shade for a long time, it shone every part of the room and even Steven himself. And he had no choice but to look at it, weary of the apparent pain that’d follow behind. 

Nothing helped with the unbearable pain. No medication nor messing with deities lessened the agitated wound. It always felt as if he were to die; it would never happen, not really. 

Like a blister he couldn’t rid of effortlessly, he’d welcome the anguish in his chest and fall backwards onto the crease of his couch. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of the rickety television and the rain outside hitting his window.

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat._

Crying sometimes helped with his pain when he was younger, at least a tender age of 400 years old. He must have ran out of tears though, he rarely physically cried now. 

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat._

Maybe, he could force himself to cry? If he felt any kind of tear fall from his eye, it would be a miracle. But no pain ever caused him to do so, why would it start today? The television roared in his eardrums as he squinted his eyes, would it work if he refused to blink for a few minutes?

_Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit—_

“Ah!” Shane stood upright, the action itself nauseated him. He buried his hands in his hair and leaned backwards on the... chair? He blinked away his confusion and trembled until somebody’s form appeared in front of him.

“It was the… fire! Could… believe it?” 

They repeated a bunch of mismatched words, their figure distorted in Shane’s vision. Shane ignored the raw wound in his chest and he caught the eyes of the man who summoned him twice.

He wore a white sweater today, strands of black hair fell to his eyes and the trademark red scarf wrapped around his neck; since Shane was sitting on a chair, the man looked down at him with a smile.

Shane doesn’t swear, but he does. He swore under his breath. “I told you _—why_ do you keep summoning me?” 

The guy continued to stare at him, his smile faded at the lack of humor in Shane’s tone. 

“Sorry _— but_ look!” He held up what seemed to be his phone, a lone candle appeared on the screen, it wasn’t set alight. “I figured how I was doing it. It was the flame!”

“A flame.”

“A flame!” The guy turned to his phone, “whenever you show up, I would be around fire or after I extinguished a flame. I don’t know why you show up—”

“Great,” Shane grumbled, he rose from the chair he was sitting on. The guy summoned him at a library it seemed, bookshelves surrounded them, aisles void of any other students alike. Nobody was around them to see him shouting his lungs out. Had kids lost interest in books? Or was it just closing hours?

“Why isn’t anybody here?” 

“Closed an hour ago,” the guy replied, he watched Shane attentively. His eyes, a gleaming brown and nearly bulging out of their sockets. How gruesome, had they always done that? They were entracing kind of, Shane noticed.

Last time he had locked eyes with somebody it had been a woman, she was a witch and had trapped him in her spell for two hours. She failed, and he ran away as far as he could. He wasn’t one to mess with witches.

“I sneaked in to talk to you,” he went on when Shane was too busy in his own head to offer a response. 

“Aw, how sweet,” Shane admitted sarcastically and looked at the man’s eyes, “don’t do it again.” He blinked, reflecting his gaze onto the exit and began to walk away from this guy as quick as possible. If the man  _were_ a witch in his past life, it didn’t show it.  

“Wait! Wait!” The human stepped in front of Shane, raising his arms and nearly colliding with Shane’s chest.  “I have to tell you something.”

“Couldn’t you do it like a normal person? Over the phone? Why do you have to be so dramatic?”

“Drama—” he scoffed, “wasn’t it  _you_ who screamed in my face to stop summoning you?  _How are you doing it_?” The human mocked Shane’s voice with a wide smile, he held up his phone again. “You should be a little nicer. Now that I know how I'm summoning you, what's stopping me from doing it again?”

Is he—is he  _blackmailing me_?

“It’s not wise to do that, I would just leave immediately. Inconvenient to us both,” Shane enunciated and kneaded his shoulders. He was tired, he was missing his nap over this _—_ human.

“Why aren’t you leaving now?” 

Fuck. 

“Good question,” Shane nodded and turned away from the guy again.

“ _Wait_!” 

Shane rolled his eyes, reluctant to turn around but the guy had shoved something into his hand. His brows drew together as he stared at it, as if it were to come with a demonically possessed item that would curse Shane forever.

Great, the last thing he needed.  _Two_ curses. Shane squinted at the man, he fidgeted where he stood, make that  _three_.

It was a box, nothing larger than the size of his right hand—a brand that he’s obviously heard of before—covered loosely in it's hideous paper. He decided to entertain his stalker and unwrapped the box. 

When he opened it, he’s caught by surprise to see a watch. It was silver, the color had faded and the encased glass was foggy, he couldn’t tell time with it even if he tried. It wasn’t brand new, must have bought it at a local thrift shop, but good lord, when was the last time someone gave him anything?

“I _—_ I know it’s not _—_  the best _._  I thought I should apologize for the other day. Oh! And to thank you for offering to give the owner of that restaurant an opening for me _—_ they haven’t called back but fingers crossed!”

Shane continued to stare at the watch, leaving the guy to ramble to himself. He was still observing the watch when his words finally comprehended in his mind, Shane let out a deep breath.

He went out of his way to buy Shane something… for doing nothing at all? He only offered him a job and hugged him when he was crying his eyes out... did nobody ever do that to him? 

“Uh…” Feeling uneasy and embarrassed, Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, really. You shouldn’t have bought me anything. Seriously, don’t summon me again. I’m a busy man.”

“I _—_ I know but—” 

“Sometimes I’m at work. That’s why I’m dressed up today. If my supervisor knew I left I would be in trouble.”

Shane closed the box after he removed the watch from it’s mediocre home and dropped it inside of his coat pocket. He gave the box back to the guy and smiled tauntingly. “You don’t want  _me_ to lose my job, right? Then I’ll have to apply at a restaurant with you.”

The guy exhaled and held the box in his hand with a frown. He doesn’t reply to Shane’s comments, so Shane turned around to the library’s exit. At the last minute, the guy grabbed onto his wrist and walked out with him.

“Please wait—”

Shane flinched and shoved the guy’s hand away from his wrist. He opened his mouth to scold him, when he realized that the air is completely different.

He furrowed his eyebrows as looked around them, there’s no cobblestone anymore but a sidewalk and buildings adjoined to each other. Bright pastel buildings with stunning brown balconies and flowers that had retired for the season. Illuminated signs of odd bar names basked in the crowds for the night, and it was only a Wednesday.

He’s been here before alright, it was New Orleans.

“How… what? 

Shane returned his gaze to the unexpected voice, their eyes widened as he took in the sights before him. It was the guy. “How are you here?” 

“How am I—” The guy blinked, “where the hell are we?”

“You…” Shane pointed a shaky finger at him, “how are  _you_ here?” 

“What do you mean how am  _I_ here?” The guy barked and raised his arms dramatically towards Shane. “ _You_ brought us here.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Shane gave him a mirthless laugh, he’s seriously tired of this. “You held onto  _me!_ What gave you the right to touch me to begin with? Now we’re in New Orleans! We’re miles from L.A!”  

“I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to touch you. I was only going to tell you that your shoes are untied,” the human claimed, simply a whisper along with the shouting Shane has done. “We’re in New Orleans?” 

Shane looked at his shoes, huh, his boots don’t have laces. 

Realizing he had been tricked, he looked up to see the man walking away from him and blended in with the bustling crowd of people around in the streets. New Orleans was a few hours ahead, the sun had already set than it had in Los Angeles. And currently, it was time for workers to head home and drunkards to settle in their daily musings. 

Nighttime in New Orleans wasn’t his favorite, Shane tousled with a couple men here and there in his time living here. None offered him mercy and tried to end his life. If this strange human… from  _L.A_ , wondered around aimlessly and decided to take a midnight stroll around one of the most dangerous part of town  _alone—_

He was out of his fucking mind.

The man couldn’t be older than twenty-two, he guessed, he was Shane’s responsibility, the asshole  _made_ him his responsibility now.

The last thing in Shane’s mind was to adopt another human this late into his life, Steven had been a handful at twenty-two. If he got lost here… Shane groaned, he did not want somebody’s life in his hands.

Then, priority number one. Send the man back home _—_ fast _._

Shane pivoted towards him, he interrupted his outgoing conversation with somebody else and cornered him.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Shane abruptly took hold of the man’s forearm. “Don’t fool around. I’ll get you home, it’s dangerous in New Orleans at night.” 

“What? You don’t think I could defend myself?” The human grinned, New Orleans’ effulgent lights illuminated him, it made him retreat his eyes when he tried to look at Shane. If there was one flaw to New Orleans, it would be that there wasn’t enough lights or too many of them.

“You’re probably right anyway, couldn’t fight anybody if I tried.”

Shane squinted, “don’t worry about it. I can do it for the both of us—”

“My hero,” the human scoffed and whirled around. He huffed when Shane pulled him back to him.

“—but we should go back home, you have school tomorrow right?” Shane tightened his grip on guy’s sweater but he resisted.

“Right _—_ I never been to anywhere outside of Los Angeles.”

“And?”

“And! I would love to—stop  _pulling_  me towards you _—_ I would love to explore!” Shane’s stalker slithered out from Shane’s hold, and took a few steps away from Shane. “Please, I'm already here.”

“Absolutely not.”

The guy’s lips pursed. For a moment, he looked like he’s about to cry and if he were, it would look bad on his part if he was caught with a man crying his eyes out in the middle of New Orlean’s busiest street. 

“Please?” The guy pleaded instead, “even if you say no, I’d like to stay a while longer.”

“How do think you’d get home? Do you have the faintest idea how far California is?” Shane lectured, his hand reached to grasp firmly on his forearm. He was a stubborn man, Shane will give him that.

“The same way you say  _I_ got us here. Walking through a door.” The guy smuggly answered his question. He shimmied out of Shane’s grip  _again_  but he’s caught before he can go any further.

“ _You_ want to be in another city by yourself? At night?”

“Unless you show me around?”

“I—” Shane swallowed, the human gave him  _that_  beady-eyed expression. Well? Did he have anything else to do?

“I don’t even know you.”

“You say that as you’re pestering me to go home,” he said to Shane and gestured to Shane’s hand on his forearm. “I think I can handle myself here. At  _night_.”

He’s right. Who is Shane to tell this stranger what to do? He loosened his grip on him and he began to walk away as soon as he’s free. He’ll figure out a way to get home anyway,  _he_ brought them both there to begin with.

Shane turned away and took two steps back to the door he came from. His eyes on the man’s silhouette _—_ he faded away while Shane stood where he was. He blended with the crowd, though his big ass attitude and frame stuck out from the other pedestrians and Shane counted to ten in his head. 

“Damn it,” he cursed and counted to three when he’s sprinting over to the human’s side. 

“Decide to join me?” The guy laughed, not looking over to Shane.

He’s invested in taking in his surroundings. New Orleans was alluring and Shane remembered every building, every sign from his time living there. He was sure to not come back for another century or two, but tonight would be an exception.

“What do you even plan to do?”

The guy hummed and squinted his eyes when he passed by a neon-lit sign. “You hungry? What do you eat around here?”

“I used to live here,” Shane casually pointed out. “Next to a restaurant where a nice lady worked. Jambalaya was her specialty.”

“Never had it.”

“You never lived.”

Shane smiled and held up his hand to the human. “Come on, little guy. Follow me, I’ll take you to her.”

He doesn’t take Shane’s hand immediately, he kept his eyes on his hand as people pass by them. “Is this a trick? Are you planning to force me back to L.A?” 

“On an empty stomach? Do I strike you as a criminal?”

“You could be.”

“Just call me your tour guide. Taking you around the city then killing you after.”

The guy snorted, “I prefer the first part only, thanks.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, baby,” Shane teased half-heartedly and when the guy took his hand, it was... odd. His hand warm and damp from New Orleans’ humidity. “I promise it will be the _best_ thing you’ll ever taste.”  

“Can’t doubt my tour guide. And don’t call me baby.”

Smiling, Shane kept his grip on the guy’s hand tight and led him over to his old neighborhood.

 

* * *

 

_Cajun’s_ was his home, both sanctuary and hell during his time here.

He guessed that the most he’s eaten in a thousand and forty nine years was in New Orleans alone. He used to eat at the restaurant downstairs from his apartment where he had lived at the time. On most occasions, that set-up had stopped Shane from leaving the apartment to do no good.

He shared a complex with a woman named Matilda. She was twenty-five last time he saw her on the bayou in 1947. She sent him off from the ferry out to Mexico, he remembered, with the promise to stay in contact. Though, she didn't write and neither did he.

Even humans tire of his presence since he had to leave because of her. She was infatuated with him and asked for more than he could give her. She wasn’t his betrothed, she never saw the blade but she grew frustrated with the rain that followed him around. 

He knew that she wasn’t alive, she must have recently passed. His undead heart yearned to return to those times with her when he caught eye of the old sign and the apartment complex that was once his home. 

“I used to live there,” he pointed to the apartment building next to the restaurant, keeping his identity under wraps and lying to this guy that he’s with.

His real home wasn‘t the same, it was falling apart, it’s cream color shriveled with the years that passed by. He thought it’s a good representation of his life. “I can’t believe the old sucker is holding up.”

“How long has it been? You couldn’t be older than twenty—” 

“I was a child,” Shane disclosed, lying through his teeth. “My dad got a job here, so I lived there with him.” 

“It’s a wonder you remember,” the guy shook his head, he kept the door to Cajun’s opened with his arm for the both of them. “Can’t remember much these days.” 

“Tell me about it."

The atmosphere was the same as it was before. Nostalgia punched him in the gut, overwhelming him where he stood and he swallowed the nausea he felt as he took in the homemade trinkets around the restaurant.

Cajun’s wasn’t exclusive in terms of looks. It felt claustrophobic inside; clusters of people gathered in after work to eat, alongside families coming in for dinner. The smell never changed either, it reeked of fish one hundred percent of the time but at least they managed to change that old horrid wallpaper and those dark blue curtains.

“For two?” Someone asked, Shane looked up to see a woman, she popped her gum and lifted her downcasted eyes from the notepad she’d picked up. She raised her eyebrow when she wasn’t given a reply. “Well? What's it gonna be?”

“For two, yes.” The girl doesn’t look like Matilda, her skin is lighter and her expression softer than her’s. Then again, it’s been awhile since Shane saw her and he could recognize those eyes. 

The girl, Amanda, as her name tag offered led both Shane and his friend to a table. She sat them down next to a picture of a black bass. He remembered that picture, old thing. “You wanted jambalaya right?”

“We have Matilda's Jambalaya. It’s my mom’s recipe, we also have—”

“Matilda is your mother?”

Amanda looked up, she narrowed her eyes at Shane and rested her hand on her hip. “Yes, ya know her? Too young to know an old lady like her.” 

“My father used to bring me here all the time," Shane lied swiftly,  _again_ , "he talked about her until I left home.” 

“Should’ve brought him,” Amanda suggested, twisting her head over to the cook who shouted an order to her. They were always packed with locals and tourists alike, Matilda’s mother never got a break. “Ma’s been gone for years. I’m here to keep her business kicking. Two orders of jambalaya, I’ll be right back.”

When she’s gone, Shane returned his gaze to the human. He thought to be filled with questions but instead: “do you think they have beignets here?” 

“The  _best._ ”

“Hm,” the guy’s eyes scanned the menu, it’s been like that since they got to Cajun’s. “I want to try them too. Was Matilda the lady you mentioned?”

“Yes,” and it’s not a lie. “She was old when I lived here. She was friends with my dad.” That was a lie.

Shane wondered if she passed peacefully. Did she end up marrying that fisherman who tried to impress her daily? Did she ever get that loan?

“Can you tell me your name?” Shane asked, his fingers reaching over to the salt shaker. One that had been in the shape of a crab, he remembered Matilda’s fierce words directed to him for coming up with a ridiculous idea. Yet, here they were. 

It was a long process with her in terms of changing the shakers. She told him that he was being stupid about it and that he was drunk. In which, yes, he  _was_ but to him, it was a marvelous idea.

“You want to know my name? For what?”

“It’s annoying to think of you as the…” Human? “...guy. It’ll be easier if I knew your name.”

“Aw, you think about me?”

Shane gave him a scowl, setting down the salt shaker on the white table. _No, I don’t_.  

The  _guy_ smirked. “If you give me an  _amazing_  tour, I’ll tell you.”

“Really? Is that how you make friends?” Shane watched as the guy took the crab-shaped salt shaker. Their fingers brushed against each other, they were cold and similar to a shock of electricity but he doesn’t let that distract him. “Aren’t you aware of stranger danger?” 

“I don’t have any friends. Never tried to talk to strangers either,” he addressed casually, inspecting the shaker in his hand. “This is adorable, I never seen anything like this.” 

Shane mentally smiled at the compliment, he kicked himself, it was really directed at him and he couldn’t exactly say  _thank you_.

Returning to the situation at hand, he had almost let himself to forget that this guy  _just_  told him that he didn’t have any friends. Is that why he’s ordering Shane around? And summoning him? Was he that alone?

“My name’s Shane Madej,” fuck, fuck, fuck, why did he do that? “That’s my name— we’re friends now, you should tell me yours.”

Bewildered, the guy straightened in his seat and opened his mouth to answer him— 

“Here you go boys,” two plates are thrown in front of them, large enough to fill both lunch and dinner and with the traditional aroma that Shane would never forget. “Enjoy.” 

And his human-guy-friend does. Flustered, he dug into his dinner and ate mouthfuls with a smile on his face. He didn’t let Shane talk to him until he’s ordering beignets to-go. 

“Do you think she would have remember you?” The man questioned him as he held the door open for Shane. “Matilda, I mean.”

Shane shrugged, “I was a child, probably not.” 

“I’m sure she did,” he reassured, mouth curled up into a smile and held the to-go box in his hands as they walked outside together. “You didn't have to pay though… we could have split the bill.”

“I know,” Shane watched the lights around him, stores began to close for the night and the pubs filled with people to spend hours into the dead of the night drinking. If he were living here, he would be in there… drowning down his third beer. “Don’t worry, it’s what friends do.” 

“I'm your friend? We just met.” 

Shane lifted his shoulder to give him a half shrug. He was tired, drained. His mood was plummeting with every second he was in New Orleans. Everything reminded him of his past, of how lonely he was, how drunk he got every night and how he wished Matilda to see the blade and pull it out. “Guess so.”

“You… look tired. Do you want to sit down before we go?” Shane wanted to refuse, but the guy was already pushing him to sit down.

They sat down together in a bench outside of a Christmas shoppe. Shane, for the first time, didn’t recognize it. He watched the Christmas tree on display on their window, its customary colored lights flickered around them. The lights behind him continued on their synchronized rhythm, and from this angle, he saw them all over the guy’s face. Red, blue, green. Red, blue—

“Thanks for, uh,” the guy began, he bowed his head and his fingers fiddled with the to-go box on his lap. “Thanks for not sending me home, you’re a great tour guide.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Shane pointed out and turned his head away. People lingered in the streets in New Orleans all the time, he knows that most of them are locals. He knew… he knew everything. “All you did was eat.” 

“You  _paid_!” The guy jabbered, a smile on his face. “No tour guide would have paid for me.” 

“At this time at night? You have a death wish.” Shane thought of the time he fought a group of men at a bar nearby, he was… so drunk.

They don’t speak for a while. Shane basked in the New Orleans air, the humidity and the sights. It would be different when he’ll return home to L.A to Steven. And a part of him desired to stay, maybe,  _somehow_ buy the building next to Cajun’s and remodel it the way Matilda wanted to. He left too early… she wanted to do so much.

Shane glimpsed over to the man with him. He must have fallen asleep with how quiet he’s being. 

Not really, all he’s doing is holding onto his tiny box on his lap and observed New Orleans with awestruck eyes. He wasn’t acknowledging Shane at all, instead, he held his chin high. He… looked relaxed, blissful. Different from their second meeting a few days prior.

Shane opened his mouth to talk to him. 

_What would you say? Would you apologize to him? You already told him your name, idiot. He thinks you're friends now._  

_Is that a bad thing?_

When somebody’s presence loomed over Shane, he kept his distance until they left him alone. Though, the human wasn't dangerous, he actually felt his shoulders slouch with strange comfort.

He laughed when he told him a joke, he smiled when the guy teased him and they bonded over their favorite desserts back at the restaurant. He was tolerable, he was funny and he was human. He was… human.

Shane didn’t realize how long he’d been staring at the guy when he turned to look at him. 

The guy furrowed his eyebrows and he asked: “Is something wrong?”

Shane shook his head slowly, “the opposite.” 

Shane gave him a smile and scooted closer to him on the bench. The human lacked in warmth, it must be the scarf on him. It wasn’t wrapped around his neck anymore, it was messy, and his fingers itched to fix it for him. Respectfully, of course, that’s what friends do.

“Wasn’t I a great friend? The best tour guide you ever had?” 

“Don’t be cocky, big guy.” The human rolled his eyes, but offered him a friendly smile as his answer. He’s pretty close to Shane, any closer he’d be able to count every eyelash that he has. “You’re the  _first._ ”

“Oh, ho, ho, I’m your first?” Shane balanced himself after the guy pushed him playfully, he bit his lip, this isn’t so bad _._

“You know what I mean. Guess I owe you.” The guy rose from the bench and he looked down at Shane. He chuckled and rolled his wide shoulders. “My name is Ryan Bergara, your newfound friend.” 

_The baby isn’t smart enough to know what Shane is doing to him and he’ll never know that this strange man in a coat who reeked of stale coffee saved him because he was outside at night sitting on a billboard._

_And yet, here he is, wondering if Ryan Bergara would remember him. It’s in the back of his mind, if Ryan Bergara would come to him when he’s older and reach out to him._

Ryan Bergara stood right in front of him.

In New Orleans, after summoning him for the third time by extinguishing a flame or making a birthday wish.

_Just give me something—_

He was Ryan’s birthday wish,  _he was right there_.

He was… he wasn’t even born the last time Shane saw him. He was a faceless child, in the memories of his mother’s future, he had no personality, he was neutral. And now that Shane met him, for the  _third_ time, now that he’d  _talked_ to him, laughed with him. He knew, Ryan Bergara was more than a faceless child.

He was tied to him because he saved his mother. 

His mind shut down, mentally bending himself over with a sorrowful cry. What had he done? How could he be so reckless? Was the stale coffee from twenty years ago laced with alcohol? There had to be an explanation, who is this? What does he want from Shane? Why did he come for him?

He came for him, he came to—

His anxiety submerged him with the sea of questions he may never get the answers to. Where was his mother? Why was he lonely? Why was he celebrating alone? Why was he crying—

Oh.

Shane swallowed harshly, clenched his sweaty palms and watched as Ryan hesitated to say another word, his lips pressed together. Thank god, if he had, Shane would have shouted bloody—murder until his lungs shrunk in their size. 

Ryan’s face was lit by the lights of New Orleans, and his face,  _his face alone_ , just like his mother’s looked at him with complete delusion. He looked like her and he’s here, he’s safe and sound but she isn't.

She died because of Shane, she died earlier than her baby because of  _Shane_.

Ryan was crying and it was his fault.

Shane’s chest rose with rapid breaths and he began to sweat through his suit. He was having an anxiety attack, he was, this is what is was. Shane jumped from his own seat, regaining his balance when his head spun in circles. The sword pierced in his chest ached, a raw sensation that would bleed into his soul.

His hands trembled when he asked: “Do you see anything unusual? On me, do you see anything, Ryan?”

Ryan, poor confused soul only blinked at him. “On… you?”

“Yes, anything at all.” Shane’s surely about to lose it anytime now, he’s feverishly shaking now. If... Ryan, if Ryan… was his betrothed he would tell him right? He wouldn’t—

“I—” Ryan let out a long exhale, his eyes deflected Shane’s intense gaze for a moment before he replied. “No. Not really. Shane, is everything okay?”

“We can’t see each other anymore, Ryan.” Shane confessed, “don’t summon me, ever again.”

“What!?” Ryan exclaimed and close to throwing his to-go box on the sidewalk. People are walking closer to them, nearing the commotion, but Ryan doesn’t mind them at all. “You… What's going on? Who are you?”

“I know what I said, I have to take back my words—” Shane’s throat dried, his chest really fucking hurts. “I’m sorry, we can’t be friends. I’ll take you home.”

He reached out for Ryan, yet, his hands brush against the humid air. Ryan’s staring up at him, furrowed eyebrows and glossier eyes than before. 

“No,” Ryan muttered, he shrunk away from Shane’s touch and embraced his to-go box. “I’ll go by myself. Get home safe.”

“Don’t be an idiot Ryan,” Shane breathed, his hands yearned to reach for him but Ryan continued to step back. “You don’t know how to leave, I’ll take you home and leave you alone.”

“Why are you saying these things? Are you playing with me? Is there something wrong Shane?”

Shane rubbed his eyes and let out a bitter laugh. Everything is hurting,  _aching_ and he wanted his bed. He wants to—he wanted to sleep.

“Let me take you home, at least. Ryan, I’m sorry.”

Shane knew Ryan's mind fought with him, even if he pursed his lips then reluctantly nodded, he didn't trust Shane. “Fine. Just take me home.”

The walk back from where they came from was excruciating, it hadn’t compared to the pain he’d grind his teeth together to for the past ten minutes. Some unrealistic part of him wanted, practically _begged_ Ryan to stop him and ask him about the blade in his chest. To tell him that he won’t leave him and be his friend until his dying day. If that were true, he refused to see Ryan die before him.

He left Ryan at his front door without a word. Ryan thanked him and told him to get home safe, keeping his eyes away from Shane. 

Shane’s still shaken up even when he arrived home. Steven opened the door for him, his house stuffy with the smell of garlic, if Shane had the energy, he would have told Steven to leave his anti-vampirism out of Los Angeles. 

“Where have you been?” Steven demanded, he shrugged Shane out of his coat and onto the couch. He couldn’t walk anymore, his limbs threw themselves onto the couch, wrapping themselves to the pillows. His face scrunched up in pain, and jerked away from Steven’s hands. His touch intensified the pain. 

Steven left him and Shane placed his hand on his chest, he gripped his shirt tightly in his fist.

“Do you need anything?” Steven nagged again, returning with a glass of water. “You’re sweating— are you hurt? What have you done?” 

Shane maintained his silence, only because he’d been blacking out for the past few minutes. In the midst of his torture, Steven took care of him until he cried out for mercy. Hopefully Steven didn’t mind the thunderstorm inside of their home, moisture inside of their house would drag out for at least a month. 

An hour into his demise, Shane opened his eyes to his dry, moisture-free house. It wasn’t raining  _inside_. 

“It wasn't raining—” Steven paused, wringing the washcloth from Shane’s forehead. “It stopped raining a couple hours ago.” 

There was a explosive flash of lighting outside his window as Shane came to the realization that it wasn't raining in New Orleans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon!! (or morning!) I may have been binge reading shyan fics instead of editing, yikes. Got this done before I knew it. Will be honest with you, I forget what happens in this chapter whenever I read it for the tenth time. I believe Ryan gets into a //sticky// situation, cue Shane to the rescue!!!!!!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, chapters from now on will be longer and lots of shyan will be introduced, as well as other characters we all know and love. (We meet lots of them here!) 
> 
> Updates will be on Sundays, Wednesdays or Fridays. Honestly depends how long it takes me to edit a chapter! (Sometimes, I would be busy and wouldn't able to update and would post it before or after. And sometimes I'll say what the hell and post three chapters in a week, who knows?) Today is one of those days.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated and I read all of them!!! I would gladly take any shyan recs at the moment, trying to dive myself in sweet, shyan fics. I also love to hear from all of you! <3  
>    
> unbeta'd

“You went _where_!?”  

In unison, three hysterical voices shouted at Ryan and startled him where he sat. They’re in the library today, Ryan awarded himself with a study break before his last class, however he hasn’t done  _any_ of his assignments considering that his ghostly companions haven’t left Ryan alone since he’d arrived three hours ago.

Cue Jen, Maycie and Daysha leaning forward across the wooden table.

“I went to New Orleans,” Ryan whispered inconspicuously and smiled at them, they don’t reply to him right away and stare at him in bewilderment.

He wanted to tell them more, every detail and everything that he saw. Unfortunately, his classmates loved to sit around the library, sleeping or studying like he’d _supposed_ to be doing. He was playing a dangerous game speaking to invisible people in public in the first place. But pure adrenaline rushed through his veins and the thought of traveling to a different city ran through his mind since he’d returned, keeping him bouncing from wall to wall.

“How the hell did you go to _New Orleans_?” Perplexed Jen demanded, she reached for Ryan’s arm and her nonexistent fingers brushed against his skin like a cool breeze. “It’s not a walk in the park, Ryan.” 

Ryan forced a smile and crossed his arms. “I’m magical, aren’t I?” He shrugged disconcertingly, “It’s a secret, I don’t know what happened.”

It’s not exactly a lie, he doesn’t know how it happened. He wasn’t gifted with powers at birth; having the ability to teleport to another city wasn’t his _thing_. Especially teleporting _two_ people outside of the city is less likely in his book. That is, if _Shane_ did lie to him about not ‘teleporting’ them to New Orleans.

“Mhmm,” Daysha taunted smugly, the corners of her mouth extended as she gave him one of _those_ smirks. 

“It’s true!”

“Okay, okay,” Maycie held up her palms and mirrored Jen’s puzzled expression. “What happened? What did you eat? What did you see? How was it?” 

“Woah, slow down,” Ryan said albeit loudly and caught one of his classmates raise their head at the sound of his voice from the corner of his eye.

He averted his eyes over to his journal, aside from his A.P Calculus notes, he wrote in margins: _I ate jambalaya and beignets they were the best thing i’ve eaten in my whole life._ He shuddered when his ghost pals floated behind him to read what he’d written before they squealed directly into his eardrums.

They asked him several questions about his ‘trip’ and he’s tempted to hype it more than it actually was.

(Basically, Ryan ate at a restaurant and a handsome man told him that they can’t be friends doesn’t sound as intriguing when you’re talking about your mini-visit to another city.)

He kept his silence as Jen and Maycie argued about New Orleans and frowned when Daysha narrowed her eyes at him, she had the tendency to observe him, as she called it. Or, bluntly read his thoughts and to tease him about it.

Who cares? They could have some sort of exhilarating news about Ryan’s life for the first time. It’s unfortunate that they had to haunt someone that’s utterly _boring_ in terms of talking about his life.

A few minutes into their strange conversation, Ryan blocked out his wandering thoughts and tried to focus on his homework. Though, it could come across as distracting when you have ghosts talking at you and trying to disturb you any chance they get. It doesn’t matter anyway, he couldn’t study even if he tried; Ryan’s mind constantly brought him back Shane’s words and left him to ponder.

His words had upset Ryan more than they should have. He doesn’t know what triggered it either, Shane looked horrified when he told him his name. Maybe he was scared of him? Ryan summoned him _three_ times after all and one of them they accidently ended up in another city.

Well, it happened. Once it happened, Ryan did not have the willpower to convince Shane to be his friend. The last thing he needed was to come off as desperate.

Even though his touch-starved bones craved for human interaction, he had to rid of the notion that he _could_ and _would_ gain a friend that wasn’t a ghost. After all, Shane Madej was walking around with a blade plunged through his chest. He couldn’t be human.

What is he?

Ryan left Jen, Maycie and Daysha to talk among themselves when the clock above them struck noon, and he walked to his remaining class for the day. This past week was unpredictable, with his birthday, his mother’s anniversary and Shane in the picture, he didn’t have much time to finish his own homework. So, Ryan had a whole lot of scolding to listen to.

However, to his surprise, his professor offered him extra credit after he flunked a recent exam, he found out that he obtained the highest score he’s ever gotten on his Economics exam and his GPA beamed at him as he checked his unofficial transcript for the third time this semester.

It was odd. Today was treating him nicely, a complete contrast of what had happened with Shane in New Orleans. 

 _That again? Couldn’t you forget about it?_  

Guess he could try to concentrate and actually live his life for himself now that UCLA decided to give him a break. He had wanted to gather enough money to move out of his aunt’s house sometime in the future, a job was his goal.

He promised himself that he would move out. It was bound to happen, he’s on the urge of driving himself insane arguing with his aunt on the daily. She wasn’t happy with him arriving home so late or _still_ without a job. Though, nobody had called him about an opening where he’d applied either. Hope was all he had now. 

Therefore, letting some random magical _guy_ roam around in his mind to distract him wasn’t going help that happen.

After class, he decided to head home. He’s been taking care of the flowers Shane gave him and letting them dry for long periods of time wasn’t ideal. Yet, they’re dying slowly in a vase on his desk already. He couldn’t find himself to care, he’ll admire them regardless. 

Ryan walked outside, rain strunk him relentlessly in the face. _Great_. This meant that he had to run home. He hid his face with the lapel of his jacket and sprinted across the school’s courtyard.

He stood by one of the elongated front gates around campus when he felt someone hold him back by his forearm. In the back of his mind, he believed it to be Shane and he swore to himself when he whirled around to the sight of his classmate, Brent.

He wasn’t familiar with Brent, they were acquaintances at best. He sat behind him in one of his morning classes and sometimes they greeted each other around campus. Talking wasn’t much of a thing that they did, apart from Ryan borrowing his jacket every once in awhile. Brent wasn’t an eyesore though, he was an attractive young man that treated Ryan kindly, awfully charming.

“Hey man,” Ryan greeted, his bottom lips quivered from the frigid rain. “What’s up?”

“You have my jacket, Ryan?” Brent asked abruptly, “do you want to hold onto it for a little longer? You’re freezing.” Brent’s fingers wrapped around Ryan’s exposed wrist. His touch had been unexpected that Ryan jumped in place. With a murmured apology, Brent removed his fingers around Ryan’s wrist.

“No, no. I—I got it! I… uh, washed it and everything. I thought you would want it that—” Ryan reached behind his shoulder and over to his backpack but Brent stopped him.

“That’s cute,” Brent rubbed his mouth with his hand and looked at Ryan with a wide smile. “Maybe you should keep it for a while longer, I don’t mind anyway.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Brent shrugged half-heartedly, “I don’t mind to help a good friend of mine.”

“Oh, well. Guess I’ll hold onto it, thanks man.”

Thank _god,_ he’d rather stay warm and _dry_ for a while longer before he turned into an icicle. They stood there awkwardly, however Ryan made a move to walk away the second Brent offered to let him keep his jacket. When a hand stopped him again, Ryan bit down a whine.

“Wait—um, I wanted to ask you—” 

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows and fidgeted on the wet pavement. “Yeah?”

Brent doesn’t reply for a while, as a few moments pass by, rain hit the hood of his jacket and splashed over to Ryan’s face. It would be nice to go inside and take a nap, this rain was unbearable.

“Would you like to—” Ryan’s phone rang melodiously and Ryan gaped at Brent, muttering a few apologies before he took out his phone.

“Sorry,” he looked at the phone’s screen and sighed as he didn't recognize the combination of numbers. Ryan didn’t know who it was, it was an unknown number.

“Hello?” 

“Is this Ryan Bergara? I’m calling on behalf of the job opening at Tasty? Is this a good time?”

“Y—you’re... w—wait, _what—”_ Ryan babbled, he composed himself and grabbed onto Brent’s arm for support. “Yes, yes, this is him. It’s a great time actually.”

“Could you start this Saturday at nine? My boss would be there to speak to you.” 

Ryan’s heart raced, beating a million miles per hour and by the time he’d reply, it’s bound to rip itself out of his chest.

He got it. He actually fucking did it. He got the _job_!

“Yes!” Ryan exclaimed over the phone, he cringed at how unnecessarily thrilled he came across as. “Yes, of course.”

“Is it possible to meet at Tasty today? To sign some forms?”

“I—” Ryan lifted his head to Brent’s face, he smiled at him softly. “Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”

Brent pursed his lips when Ryan hung up, “urgent?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Talk to you later?”

Ryan walked away as soon as Brent nodded. Relief and happiness radiated from him with every step he took. They really called him back! He has a job! Soon he’ll have a paycheck and income! Shane was really a lifesaver.

Shane.

Would he mind if Ryan thanked him? It would seem like he _would_ mind if Ryan bothered him again, he _did_ say he was busy all the time with his own job and life. It’s better off if they didn’t talk for the time being.

However, Ryan thanked him a thousand and _one_ times, muttering _thank you_ to himself. He’d hope that somehow, Shane would know that he was grateful.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Ryan left his aunt’s house at eight thirty in the morning on Saturday. It’s was a picturesque morning, the sun had already risen, disappearing through the sporadic clouds in the sky. Ryan noticed the absence of the familiar gray-ish hue in said clouds, though he made sure to grab his trusty ol’ umbrella in any case.

Tasty stood in the middle of a adjoining plaza, a twenty minute ride by bus and another ten minute walk through the park. The park where he’d seen Shane Madej. 

He recoiled mentally at the thought of taking this path every morning to work, especially when Shane had stuck inside of his mind like a tick. It’s not like he can help it. He was funny and kind to him, he gave him flowers on his birthday, paid for him at New Orleans and even called him his _friend_.

He’s allowed to feel utterly betrayed by his words. But, he couldn't stop himself from smiling when he remembered Shane's words; 'caramel popcorn isn’t all that great, i’m glad you agree with me, buddy.’

He… kind of missed him.

 _You don’t know him! It’s been two days_! 

He guessed that he would. It doesn’t stop him from pouting all the way to work, with half of his face covered by the hood of Brent’s jacket.

Tasty’s an incommodious restaurant, squished between two other buildings and felt out of place at how modernized they remodeled it in an outdated plaza. He had seen the inside of the store, brick walls covered the joint, photographs of old timely Los Angeles hung all over the restaurant.

All around Tasty, there had been gray chairs and black tables, most chairs propped on top of its table companion and empty booths lined against the red brick walls. And there was a bar, void of anything else other than menus piled on the counter, Ryan passed through all of this until he heard a voice call out to him.

“You’re early!”

Ryan turned his head to the front of the restaurant where a woman he’d never seen before sat at a table. She leaned back and observed Ryan cautiously, her mouth moved, as if she were chewing on something—beans, Ryan assumed, there was a cardboard plate filled with what looked like beans to him. Well, he hoped it _was_ beans. 

“Uh…” Ryan began, and swayed from one foot to the other. He felt a bit intimidated by the woman’s posture. “Yes… I’m—”

“Ryan Bergara,” the woman nodded, “yes, I heard of you. All nice things, hopefully that’s true.” The woman doesn’t move from her seat but extended her arm over for Ryan to shake. “Name’s Kelsey, I’m your boss.” 

 _His boss?_ Ryan imagined her to be a bit older… maybe a lot older. Nonetheless, Kelsey struck him as an ordinary college student like him, a laid back girl (literally.) She wore a hat, covering most of her wavy blonde hair that framed her thin face, her cheeks were a bit round and he noticed that her skin glowed with the dim light around her. Though she showed no visible emotion, her mouth twitched wickedly and the corners of her eyes crinkled.

Kelsey continued to eat in front of him, chewing on her breakfast at her own restaurant. And Ryan shook Kelsey’s hand slowly, before letting go and looking around the place.

Kelsey doesn’t mind him and resumed to scraping the bottom of her cardboard plate with her spoon. The restaurant lacked customers compared to the other day he walked in; there had been crowds of people waiting for their order outside and loitering around the bar’s counter, a full house.

Today, nobody but himself and Kelsey were in sight. Of course, it was only early in the morning, although, speculating from people walking past Tasty, it didn’t seem like anybody was interested to eat breakfast here.

“Where is everyone?” 

Kelsey hummed, she chewed and raised her chin at Ryan. “What’cha mean, bud? It’s just you and me.”

Ryan’s eyes rounded, “you and _me_?”

Kelsey raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow when Ryan gestured to himself with his thumb, she thrusted out her hand towards him, the one holding a spoonful of pinto beans. “Yeah? Does that bother you?”

“No, _no_ , it’s just…” Ryan objected and rubbed his nape, everything happened in a quick fashion, he gave himself a second to breathe before he’d pass out from asphyxiation. “There was lots of people when I came the other day…”

“Ah,” Kelsey nodded to herself and straightened her back where she sat on her chair. “Tasty’s… a restaurant you visit when you _want_ to get drunk and eat. Nobody comes earlier than two, even then, we’re not allowed to serve alcohol to anybody at that hour.”

Kelsey clapped her hands before Ryan could reply and kicked the chair next to her with her foot. He caught it before it fell to the wooden floor and set it down. 

“Thought Steven told you about that,” she muttered when Ryan sat down and pushed the cardboard plate over to Ryan and asked him if he wanted any of her pinto beans.

Ryan shook his head, politely declined her offer on the beans, then asked: “Steven?”

“Yeah, he works the night shift,” Kelsey went on, she ate another mouthful of pinto beans and gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “you sure you don’t _want?_ Lots of protein, these things.” 

“No, thanks,” Ryan politely denied, letting Kelsey wave his arm around effortlessly. She wrinkled her nose and uttered out _you’re too skinny, you need to eat_ but continued to chew.

“Steven, I must have seen him, he was busy… I think he was the one who gave me the papers to sign.” He twirled his body around and opened his bag to retrieve the papers he had signed the day of and slid them over to Kelsey. Kelsey did nothing but look over them momentarily and Ryan’s heart continued to beat piercingly loud as it could. He was sure Kelsey could hear it.

“Okay, bud. Lets just ask you some questions.”

_Questions?_

“Questions?”

“Questions,” Kelsey echoed, she offered him pinto beans one last time and when he declined yet again, she took one long exhale. “You’re a college student right? Studying… eight to two.”

Ryan nodded, “only several days in the week—” 

“And what? This is your first job?” 

“Yes—”

“Have you been arrested or served time in jail?”

“Uh, no—”

“Drugs? Can’t ask you about alcohol, you’re of age. Unless you’re an alcoholic?”

“No, but alcohol—”

“What’s your favorite color, Ryan?”

“My favorite—what—”

“In order to keep a healthy boss-employee relationship, I gotta know more about you. You a lime green type of guy?”

“Uh… I guess— I don’t know—”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Ryan?” She asked out of nowhere, “like _hot, sexy_ , ghosts?”

Ryan was sure that she was enjoyed to tease him, considering that Ryan froze on the spot when he hesitated to answer her question. Ryan blinked at Kelsey, he closed and opened his mouth and tried to form words. _Did she know? Who—_

Suddenly, she laughed at him and his cheeks flushed at his own embarrassment. She was just messing with him, her smile widened as she waited for a valuable answer.

“I—I do believe in ghosts... but—what?” He’s seconds away from running out the door.

Kelsey’s laughs subsided into giggles and took note of Ryan’s excessively blinking. “You’re hired, Bergara. You can start,” she glanced at her wrist, though she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Now. There’s a broom in the storage closet. It’ll be nice to sweep before we open,” she suggested, leaned backwards in her chair with a delighted grin and jiggled her foot.

Ryan doesn’t move, he isn’t sure if he’s capable of doing so. He blinked at his new boss a few times taken aback.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you by the hour. You’ll work the days you can and after class if you want, you can come and help Steven and—woah, you okay? Are you crying?”

Ryan _is_ crying, he shook his head as his tears fell over his cheeks. His chest trembled as he let himself wail into his hands and since he was overwhelmed with happiness, he wrapped his arms around his new _boss’s_ neck recklessly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank _you!_ I—I’ll get to work, _right now_!” He pulled away from his one-sided embrace and sat up from his seat. He almost fell back down, but composed himself before running over to the storage room—halfway there he realized he had no idea where that was.

“Uh… the—”

Kelsey jerked her thumb to the opposite side of the restaurant, to a hallway leading over to the restrooms and storage. _Over there_ , she mouthed to Ryan, shrunk into her chair and smiled happily as she watched him run to the storage room.

Ryan’s first day at work wasn’t all that serious. He spent the remainder of his shift learning where everything was, cleaning tables every two hours and sweeping around. He must have cleaned the entire restaurant at least five times before he gotten the hang of it.

There were a few customers coming in, ordering to-go or staying in for a snack or two and none of them had been ghosts to give Ryan trouble. Another point for Ryan, none for ghosties!

Kelsey left him alone two hours ago, told him that it wasn’t long until Steven or any other of his co-workers would come in to take over their own shifts. It was nearing two in the afternoon when people began to crowd inside, along with the first of his new coworkers, Steven.

They all walked inside with booming voices, laughing and talking among themselves when they see Ryan stand near the bar.

“Oh, hello,” his co-worker waved to him, smiling widely, his eyes squinted as he does so. “This is Ryan guys, he’s new.”

Steven’s younger than him, an inch or two taller than Ryan, handsome, and showing off perfectly styled gray hair. He’s wearing the employee's uniform, identical to the one Steven wore days ago in a rush, his shirt isn’t wrinkled though, perfectly ironed.

Ryan was greeted by the men Steven came in with, people that he’s never seen before. Respectfully asking him if he had an easy and effortless first day and that if he were willing to work longer shifts, they’ll be there until the late hours of the night. 

They didn’t know Ryan, yet they sat him down and talked to him as if they were his friends and one of them offered to buy him food so he wouldn’t have to go home hungry.

Ryan’s heart was light and his stomach full of cheese and chicken wings by the time he decided to depart. He left the table, their musings mingled with the conversations of nearby customers and Ryan turned his head to his shoulder for a moment when his name was called. Distracted, he bumped into a firm body, knocking his forehead on their shoulder.

Muttering an apology, Ryan rubbed his forehead with a groan, he heard the other snort. Ryan looked up, he’d run into Steven of all people, he had to balance his notepad and a tray of empty plates in one hand.

“No worries,” Steven chuckled, his free hand reached for Ryan’s arms to keep him steady, “you work Monday too right? Maybe we’ll talk then. Saturday’s are the busiest.” He pointed with his chin to the full house they had customers constantly flooded in from the front door, ringing the bell atop.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “It was nice to meet your friends.”

“We’re all college students,” Steven walked behind the bar, placing the tray on the counter, grabbed some empty glasses and poured them to the rim with beer. “Had this job for a while. I live with my uncle, paying rent and school is easier that way. Gotta make a living somehow.” 

Ryan agreed with him. Mesmerized, he watched Steven bartend to people he knew by name. He pursed his lips, one day that would be him. He could do it, he did have a job now.

Even after his finishing a shift at his first job (since high school,) it wasn’t registering in his head that _he_ had a job. Years and _years_ of looking consumed him, he was sure to have the mentality to job search for a while until it dawned on him. It’s been so long, Ryan was convinced that he would never find one. He couldn’t wait to tell Shane about—

Oh. He can’t do that, could he?

Ryan jiggled his foot and exhaled, his eyes followed Steven's hasty steps, giving drunkards alcohol and cheesy food. He hadn’t noticed him walking over and touching his shoulder.

“Hey,” Steven inclined his head, his brows drew together. “You okay? Do you need to sit down? You look a bit pale.”

Ryan opened his mouth, but Steven pushed him into a stool. The longer he sat there, the urge to hide his face into his scarf intensified. To keep himself invisible to everyone, Ryan lowered his head, black strands of hair fell into his eyes.

What was wrong with him? He had a wonderful day today. He met his boss, he met new people, there wasn’t any ghosts to annoy him. He _just_ finished a shift that will earn him money. If anything, today was the first day he felt normal, like a college student drinking and hanging out with friends instead of opaque versions of people that used to be.

Though, he knew there was something missing. 

“Yeah… My head isn’t really here. I don’t know how to explain it, I must be overthinking.”

And he was, though he concerned himself with his duties, Shane didn’t leave his mind all day. He thought about him as he cleaned or tended to his customers. And every time his mind flooded back to him, it kept him in a foul mood for a while.

It didn’t last before he thought of something else, but it was difficult for his mind to not lead back to him. To the way Shane squinted his eyes when he laughed or the way he kept his hand on Ryan’s body at all times when they walked In New Orleans. Or the way he spoke to him… like he was… somebody he knew for years.

“Oh no. Are you in _love_?” Steven interrupted his monologue and Ryan’s head jolted upright. He was still sitting on his seat, though he hadn’t noticed that he rested his head on the counter.

“What? No! I just—I’m missing someone,” Ryan elaborated, no longer sugar-coating what he felt and told his new co-worker like it was. He _was_ missing a stranger.

“Ah… that happened to my ol’ buddy before. He told me that he couldn’t stop thinking about his ex-girlfriend,” Steven tsked his tongue and wiped the inside of a glass with a white, untouched towelette. “Told him that if he really, really loved her. He should talk to her again.”

“Did it work?”

Steven pouted, he stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. “Not really, she kicked him out. But that doesn’t mean that could happen to you.” 

Ryan narrowed his eyes, nothing stopped Shane from kicking him out either. 

“Listen, I don’t know the situation. My uncle’s been in a spiral too and he refuses to try anything to feel better. You can right? Everyone deserves a second chance, Ryan. My cold-hearted uncle who leaves _me_ to pay bills does too.”

Ryan gave him a breathless laugh, he… he had to go home. He had to call Shane. He had to tell him that he’s sorry that he told him his name and they could be friends. Without thinking any further, Ryan rose from his stool. “I’ll see you later, Steven!”

“You leaving now?”

Ryan whirled around with a smile and kept the door open for another couple who stepped inside. “Gotta call them! Tell them how I feel!” He saw Steven grin at him and Ryan walked out of Tasty and opened his umbrella to shelter himself from the rain. 

Ryan made it home in record time, the sun barely began to set when he closed the door to his aunt’s house. He doesn’t bother to announce his entrance just in case his aunt had the need to boss him around a bit more. She’s at work herself or on the couch watching reruns of soap operas. He scanned the house to look for her and doesn’t see a sign of her at all.

The door to his cousins’ bedroom is ajar, leaving him to stealthy peek inside to catch both of his cousins playing on their console. They noisingly spoke over each other and spouted swear words at each other. Ryan nodded to himself and closed the door to their room, hoping they wouldn’t notice him for another hour.

Ryan let out a sigh of relief and tiptoed to his room when he remembered that his aunt kept a zippo lighter in the kitchen for birthdays. He could use a genuine flame instead of an app right? Wouldn’t that make Shane believe that he’s serious?

He opened every kitchen drawer, searching for said zippo lighter. He took it the second he found it next to some empty envelopes and doesn’t think twice about it. 

Ryan shoved his backpack off his shoulders and slipped out of his work uniform to sit on his bed. His shoulders slumped, twisted the lighter around with his fingers and thought of what’s he’s going to say. He’s a second away from opening the lid when he stopped himself.

What _is_ he going to tell him? 

Wouldn’t Shane leave if he called him?

Did he not care about Ryan at all if he did?

 _You don’t know if you don’t try_.

Ryan’s head filled with the words he wanted to say, things he’s _afraid_ to tell Shane, things that wouldn’t make sense if he spoke them outloud. He thought about his mom then, what would she do if she were him? He knew that she would try, if she knew that she had limited time with anyone… she would certainly try anything.  

Ryan pressed his thumb on the edge of the lighter, opened its small lid. _Oh, god. What is he doing?_

And flicked the lighter on, a flame illuminated his dim room, proudly flowing with the wind of his fan. Ryan felt the warmth on his thumb, singeing his skin and it crept up rapidly all over his hand. He thought it as a sign, the way Shane’s touch felt on his skin or his warmth felt next to Ryan when they walked side by side in New Orleans. 

He’s about to extinguish it himself, but he can’t bring himself to. Maybe… maybe it’s best to respect Shane’s wishes of never speaking to him again. What’s stopping Shane from taking one look at him and leaving? He’s playing with fire ( _literally_ ) and it’s best to stay away from him.

Ryan closed his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He gasped softly, “there's _something_ wrong with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he trembled and bowed his head, “maybe you’re listening or not. If you are, I’m sorry if you’re busy.”

Ryan’s hooded eyes lingered on the lone flame, he held back the desire to extinguish it when his thumb began to burn. “I don’t ever mean to bother you. And…”

He swallowed, “I know you were just being nice to me. And somehow, I mistook that as wanting to be friends.”

He looked up then, the roses Shane gave him in view. “I just wanted to thank you one last time. I got the job… and it’s pretty fun. My boss is nice to me, and my coworkers are as well. I met… I met new people and they’re all kind to me and I never… I never had anyone else as a friend before.”

“Except you,” Ryan smiled weakly, “If I did anything wrong. Could you tell me? It would be nice if we could be friends… _please,_ if you’re listening, Shane. I’m sorry.” Ryan held back a sob, the last thing he wanted to do is sound pathetic to Shane by crying over a zippo lighter in his room.

(If this _is_ working and if he’s not just speaking to fire in the emptiness of his room.)

“Someone told me to try and work it out with you,” Ryan continued again after a long pause. His thumb, now a reddened area where the flame flew towards it a numerous amount of times, strained from holding onto the lighter— he knows he’s not supposed to keep it on this long.

“I… think that’s what I’m doing now. Hopefully you don’t hold this against me, big guy.” Ryan narrowed his eyes, “if you’re not listening, this was _pretty_ therapeutic, um, thank you.”

He closed the lid of the lighter and remained still on his spot on the bed. He fell asleep with the lighter in his hand and to the sound of his aunt talking to her children.

 

* * *

 

There was a stain on his bedroom ceiling, a repulsive green tint that grew daily and soon he’d have to discard it before mold formed. It was his fault, he made it rain everyday, a constant that even his roof couldn’t take it any longer. Maybe it was cursed too, like him.

Shane and his ceiling, cursed by the all-powerful God. 

Any day now, water droplets will begin to fall on him as he slept. He’ll be too exhausted to wake up though, it was on the back of his mind that he had to grow up and stop feeling sorry for himself. For the sake of his roof that was days away from towering in on him.

The unbearable ache in his chest hadn’t ceased since it started days prior, if anything, it grew immensely. Shane doesn’t know why or how it happened. Yet, he woke up in damp bed sheets, suffocating on his own shortened breaths and nearly on the edge of vomiting what little he could eat. If this what it felt to die as a deity, then Shane prayed that it would happen swiftly.

There’s no use to pray, God didn’t hear you 1000 years ago, he won’t hear you now.

Shane laid on his bed, he touched his chest and ran his fingers over his skin. It wouldn’t help with his pain, but it calmed him down before he’d drive himself insane. He wouldn’t dare to get up anymore, if it were to eat or dress himself he’ll do it with a snap of his fingers and still, it fucking _hurt_.

Steven tried to help him too, though his efforts led him to a bitter dead end. Spewing out shit like _you aren’t like this all of a sudden, it’s somebody and I know it, you have to talk to them._ He didn’t know Shane, he didn’t know that Shane met Ryan Bergara and unpurposely killed his mother for him to live his life.

And it wasn’t grand for Ryan either. A twenty-six year old man living with his aunt and drowning in tuition fees. No emergency contacts apart from himself and unemployed. Ryan was unknowingly alone in the world and Shane drove him away because _he_ couldn’t take the guilt.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and extended his hand over to his bedside dresser. Since he’d been bedridden, there wasn’t much to do during the day. He’d mess with the watch Ryan gave him to pass the time, a small thing that barely fit around Shane’s wrist, the worst quality of a watch he’d ever had.

Despite it’s rust and faded exterior, Shane admired the gift like it was his first born child. A gift from a human; something he hadn’t accepted since he left Europe six hundred years ago, a symbol to remind him that every time he’ll wear it, he’ll be miserable. And—it wouldn’t ever end.

Shane fiddled with the watch, his fingers brushed against the glass, tracing the numbers with his thumb. When the watch moved in his hand, it reflected the light from his lamp onto his face. He squinted his eyes and tried to divert away the sharp ray of light from hitting his eye.

He was quiet, his only friend now was the newfound watch in his hand. Shane squeezed his eyes shut and relaxed his tense body. He steadied his breathing as his grip on the watch tightened, perhaps Steven was right. He was pathetic to act like this, after being alive for so long you’d think to hold yourself to a higher standard.

And for a touch-starved deity? Desperate for the presence of a human being? He’d be burned at the stake—

_“What is wrong with me?”_

He knew that voice, the velvety, raspy one. When he’d speak to Shane, he’d accidentally stumble with his words and pronounce some of them incorrectly. Shane never corrected him.

 _Ryan?_ Shane opened his eyes suddenly.

_Oh fuck. Oh fuck, no, no, no he’s not—he’s just in his white sweater and ridiculous pajama pants and he’s sure that his scruff turned into a full on beard. He was wearing his glasses for fuck sakes—_

_“There’s something wrong with me,”_ Ryan’s voice echoed in his head, he doesn’t sound like he’s in any danger. If he were, he wouldn’t whisper to him.

That voice, even though Shane heard him a few days ago, caused Shane to shiver, goosebumps tickled through his skin, Shane held the watch closer to his chest and imagined Ryan next to him, talking directly into his ear.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ What are you sorry for, Ryan? You didn’t do anything.

_“Maybe you’re listening or not. If you are, I’m sorry if you’re busy.”_

Shane snorted, he remained still but if he had the energy, he’d laugh and laugh. He’d laugh until he ran out of energy, instead he laid there, trying to remember the way Ryan mirrored his smile in New Orleans.

_“I don’t ever mean to bother you. And… I know you were just being nice to me. And somehow, I mistook that as wanting to be friends.”_

No, no—that’s not— 

_“I just wanted to thank you one last time. I got the job… and it’s pretty fun. My boss is nice to me and my coworkers are as well. I met… I met new people and they’re all very kind to me and I never… I never had anyone else as a genuine friend before.”_

Shane looked at the watch, tears shone in his eyes thought they did not fall.

 _“Except you,”_ he blinked his tears away. _“If I did anything wrong. Could you tell me? It would be nice if we could be friends… please, if you’re listening, Shane. I’m sorry._ ”  

Shane can’t move, his eyes half lidded. The pain returned, oh, _fuck_ , does it return. It escalated when he trembled, the raw, searing ache spread through his abdomen up to his neck, consuming him long enough to bury his hand on the roots of his hair.

He dropped the watch on his stomach as he opened his mouth to let out a silent cry. Ryan isn’t talking for a minute and he thought that he’d finished torturing Shane. Shane lets out a wail, his back arched as he squirmed around his bedsheets. 

_“Someone told me to try and work it out with you.”_

Who the fuck told you? Do you know what you’re doing to me?

_“I… think that’s what I’m doing now. Hopefully you don’t hold this against me, big guy. If you’re not listening, this was pretty therapeutic, um, thank you.”_

Shane whimpered, his wound throbbed as he turned his body to the edge of his bed. He ignored the sound of Ryan’s watch as it fell to the wooden floor. He could only howl in his bedroom, buried his tall body in his sheets, tangling his limbs around recklessly and left himself to weep.

I’m sorry.

Please don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Shane?”

Upon hearing his name, Shane blinked, dazed from what little sleep he’s gotten last night. His eyes focused on what had woken him up and from what he could see through his blinds, it’s early in the morning. Then it must be Steven checking on him. 

“Shane?” He heard Steven step into his room, his footsteps deafening as he walked towards Shane resting his bed.

Shane hummed in response, stirred in his bedsheets to get a better view of his nephew. He nibbled on his bottom lip and his brows knitted. Steven sat on the edge of his bed and placed his hand on his arm reassuringly.

“It's just me. Are you feeling better?” He consoled, “I’m going to class now, will you be okay? Do you want me to stay with you?” 

Shaking his head, Shane scooted closer to Steven. They’ve been living together since Steven was given to him by his last relative and took care of Shane more than Shane took care of him. Smart, he was.

“No. Go to class, Steven.” _My word_ , his throat was awfully dry. “You have to learn about biology, right? Remember the powerhouse of the cell is the nucleus.”

“That’s the cell mitochondria, you imbecile,” Steven mumbled unenthusiastically, “and I’m not majoring in biology.” 

“Don’t speak like that to me, Steven,” Shane jokingly pouted, his voice deeper from hours in bed. “After a while, all your studies just end up as one.”

Steven chuckled, and kept his warm hand on Shane’s arm. Shane closed his eyes and let him soothe him for a while longer. He’s blessed to have someone with him, soon enough, Steven would grow up to be a wonderful young man with a family and leave Shane alone. By then, he hoped to set out for Barcelona before he’s left alone permanently. He’ll miss him, though he is a pain in the ass most of the time.

“Shane?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you try to get better today? I know you don’t want me to say it but I hate to see you like this and—don’t look at me like _that_ —this is obviously about someone.”

Shane looked at him with a blank expression, beknownst to Steven, Shane had already given up. He’s accepted to understand what it meant to suffer since he’d been through it since he’d woken up from death. But in the span of a couple of days, Shane felt himself crumble into the hands of a stranger’s life.

He couldn’t control his emotions any longer. Unfortunately, thinking or _talking_ about Ryan wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. To explain to his adoptive nephew about a man that he’d met recently and ruined his life forever _was_ tough. Steven wouldn’t understand why. 

“You’re right,” Shane admitted, he stared at Steven with half-lidded eyes. “It is about somebody.” 

“I—Is it somebody I know?” Steven stammered but Shane doesn’t reply to him. Shane doesn’t want to lie to Steven, if he were to tell a white lie, he would lose his trust from his adopted nephew.

“You don’t have to tell me… would you talk to them soon? For both our sakes… Christmas is two weeks away and I—” Steven paused, he frowned when Shane turned his head away to stare at his bedside table. “I want you to feel better.”

Shane looked back at Steven and narrowed his eyes, “I’m offended that you think I wouldn’t be excited to see ol’ jolly Santa Claus.”

“Shane, I’m serious.”

“So am I!” Shane hollered, “he’s not a nice guy, Steven. He told me that I was a naughty boy. He gave me coal! In Memphis, might I add.”

Steven bit his lip, tried to contain his laughter that would give Shane the satisfaction he _doesn’t_ need. “Shane. Please.” 

“I appreciate the concern, bud,” Shane reassured, “but it’s a bit harder than that. You should go to class, you’ll be late.”

Steven nodded unconsciously, convincing himself to leave. Shane knew Steven’s mulling to stay another day with him to take care of him and annoy him with nonsensical food facts all day. He’d already missed several classes because of Shane, he’ll fail the semester at that rate (and Shane knows he’ll go broke if he has to pay Steven’s tuition.) 

“Okay,” Steven sighed, sitting up from the bed and adjusted the strap of his backpack. “I’m going to work too, the new kid’s there and he’s been working his ass off all week.” 

_Ryan?_

“Just like you, I suppose?”

“Poor guy,” Steven muttered to himself, shrugging, “he looks tired all the time and sad. He doesn’t seem to be eating a lot either. Somehow, I ended up having to take care of the _both_ of you.” 

Shane watched as Steven silently walked out of his room. He waited until he heard him walk outside of their house before he tried to go back to sleep. A few minutes later, Shane realized that it wasn’t going to happen. He rolled over to his side and squinted his eyes to the growing light of dawn peeking from his curtains.

Why is Ryan not eating? Ryan’s overworking himself? What’s he thinking doing that? Why isn’t he taking care of himself?

“It’s not my problem,” Shane told himself, sitting up and threaded a hand through his gunky hair. “I shouldn’t worry about it.” 

After a shower, Shane casually walked over to his closet, choosing an outfit and setting it up on his bed. “It’s not my problem,” Shane repeated, dressing himself and fixing his half-dried hair with his fingers. He left his room, heading over to the kitchen and makes himself some tea. 

He sat on the living room sofa and turned the television on. Sipping on his tea and cutting it close to burning his tongue. He watched television with outermost attention; a movie Shane’s seen a thousand times before, (and would brag and say that _he_ was listed as an executive producer to boost his ego a bit more, 2000 was a ludicrous year.) _Moulin Rouge_ played as he cautiously drank his tea, the scene played out the way remembered when he stood in the sidelines.

Maybe he’ll go to work after this, yeah, he’ll fill out some paperwork, call some clients and maybe he’ll visit Steven for lunch. Shane averted his attention to the television and gawked at Ewan McGregor’s singing. He was friendly to Shane, too bad he had to erase his memory after he left. Yet, it’s nice to see him walk around and dance while he could.

It’s not even close to five minutes before Shane’s standing up from his seat.

“ _Okay_ , but why isn’t he eating?” He blurted out, looking at the television again, Ewan McGregor taking up his screen, it would be nice to meet him again, take Ryan with him to introduce him.

(Hello, this is my friend, Ryan Bergara who lives to not eat and overwork! How about some tea, would that be lovely?)

He wondered if Ryan’s ever seen this movie, and if he has, if he liked Ewan enough to meet him, too. “I should pay him a visit... to tell him to eat.” Shane spoke to himself, his fingers lightly caressing his scruff.

 _Maybe that’s what he’ll do. He’ll just visit Ryan and tell him to eat._ Shane nodded to himself, _it would be a harmless visit, just make sure he’s eating_. Shane’s out the door before he’d decided not to, taking his coat and leaving the television to blast _Your Song_ at full volume.

 

* * *

 

It took a long minute to find the man called Ryan Bergara.

At work, Shane tried to scavenge as much as he could find of the man. Apart from knowing his name, age, and recent occupation, Shane knew little to nothing about Ryan. It didn’t come off as a surprise, Shane wasn’t a stalker by any means. He didn’t have a list of addresses of the people he currently knows or knew. 

But he did have manipulation. 

Manipulating the one of Tasty’s workers to give him information about Ryan’s whereabouts? _That_ was the easy part. Keeping himself hidden away from Steven, _that_ wasn’t so fun.

He had over six foot of limbs to hide, to blend in with drunk customers, yet, Steven could take one lingering stare at him and ask him: “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Shane clicked his tongue, a habit he’d taken up here whenever he’s up to no good. Steven raised his eyebrow at Shane, he glowered when Shane shoved his hands into his coat pockets and swayed on his feet. Ryan’s address written in a folded piece of paper in his pocket and he _really_ wanted to go see him. To make sure he’s eating and all.

“To eat,” Shane claimed, “I’m hungry.”

“You’re—” Steven blinked, he pushed himself away from a customer’s path and grabbed onto Shane’s coat to shove him lightly, “you stayed in bed in a week and now you’re here because you’re hungry.” 

“Steven, a grown man has to eat too,” Shane pointed out. In the corner of his eye, he watched another crowd of customers walk inside, “I was going to ask you for food but I can see you’re busy so I’ll—” 

“I’m not actually busy,” Steven assured innocently, “do you want to eat something?”

_This is taking too long, Ryan is not eating and time is passing by rather slowly._

“Suddenly, I’m no longer hungry,” Shane concluded, slapping his hand on Steven’s shoulder. “See you later, pal.”

“Wait, what? Why did you come here for _no_ reason? Shane? _Shane_!” 

Shane exhaled, whirled around expecting a pissed-off Steven. Instead, is greeted by a shit-eating grin, a knowingly disgusting smile from Steven.

“You’re going to talk that person, aren’t you? I can’t believe I did it, I convinced you!”

“You didn’t convince me of anything, just wanted to make sure they’ve eaten yet.”

“If they—okay, sure, _sure_ ,” Steven waved his hand dismissively and reeled away from Shane to his customers, “don’t let me stop you, go on.”

Shane nodded, he pivoted to the door but turned back to Steven. “Do I look okay? Am I too overdressed?”

“No Shane,” Steven replied, not bothering to look over. “You look great, just get out of here.”

“Really? Are you sure—”

Steven groaned, walking over to Shane and pushing (attempting to) him to the entrance. “Get _out_ of here! Go, go! You look fine! Oh hey, nice watch, where did you get it? Is it new? Nevermind, get _out_!”

Kicking Shane out of the restaurant, Steven closed the door and kept his hands on the entrance to entice Shane to leave. I mean, he could have just asked nicely. 

Shane took the well-known route to Ryan’s house. One that he’d walk through weekly, whenever he felt some sort of discomfort in his chest. Past campus, through the park where they first saw each other and lots of turns later, he stood face-to-face with Ryan’s apartment complex.

There’s nothing special about Ryan’s neighborhood. It was basic sure, white buildings, minimalistic windows and empty yards closed off by gates surrounding the entire area. But it was destitute, this neighborhood did not have the best reputation in terms of living here.

Shane would know, he’s lived through it all. (Ryan had too, he took care of himself well.)

He looked at the sticky note he had, making sure it was the right place, twice. This is where he lived for years without his mother? It wasn’t the safest nor the best to raise children. If anything, it didn’t scream out _Ryan lives here!_ to Shane. The apartment he was searching for was close, just a few more minutes of walking and he’ll be in front of an… open gate?

Shane was sure that he’d had to jump over the gate or break in somehow. He crawled through the gap the gate allowed and towards the front door, making sure he doesn’t step on any type of toy or tossed bike parts. He passed by a rattily bicycle, one that a child would have, with training wheels attached. From the chicken scratch, he saw the name _RYAN_ on the side of the seat. Cute, but was that his only one?  

When he’s standing in front of Ryan’s house, he has a dilemma. Should he knock? Did he plan to sneak in like a criminal? Which window is Ryan’s anyway? 

Maybe it’ll be best if he just knocked.

Once he knocked on the front door, he noticed that most of the lights inside are turned off. It wasn’t early in the day either, nearly seven in the afternoon; too extreme to go to bed at seven in the afternoon. Why was the gate open? 

Nobody answered the door when Shane knocked, so he did it again. And again, and one more time—

The door swung open, a frantic looking lady stood in front of him glaring at his raised fist.

“ _What_?” She’s no older than thirty, short and looked nothing like Ryan. She glowered at him with frazzled eyes and leaned by the door with crossed arms. “If you need something, you should say it, otherwise you’re wasting both our time.” 

“Sorry ma’am,” Shane apologized, taking a peek inside the apartment from the top of her head, “does Ryan Bergara live here?”

The woman paled, “you from the bank?”

“No, ma’am. Just a friend.”

“Just missed him,” she addressed, her eyes bored into Shane’s taller form, “went out on a stroll. He’ll be back, he always comes back.”

Ryan’s not home? Where is he? It’s dark out already, where could he had gone? What does she mean as he always comes back?

Ryan’s guardian sneered at him and from the looks of it, she must have been sleeping before Shane interrupted. If she were Ryan’s guardian, wouldn’t she make sure that Ryan was home and eating? What the hell was she doing?

“I’m sorry,” Shane said nervously, though it’s not an apology, “what do you mean, he’s gone?”

“He _left,_ ” she practically growled, “Ryan always leaves the house.” She’s about to close the front door on him when he intentionally pushed his foot forward.

Ignoring her scowl, Shane pushed the door slightly ajar with his foot. “Why did he leave? Are you sure he left? Does he—” 

“Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you want but Ryan isn’t _here_!” A line appeared between her brows when she forced a smile, calming herself down and looking at Shane again, “I’ll have to ask you to leave my property—”

“Why did he leave?” Shane repeated, keeping his eyes on her. She really didn’t look anything like Ryan nor did she have his witty personality like he did. And he didn’t annoy Shane as much as she does. 

“I’m going to ask you to leave my property—” 

Shane clenched his jaw, he’ll let Ryan’s guardian talk all she wanted but he’s had enough. He opened the door with his forearm, stepping aside of the woman and entered Ryan’s house. 

“Hey, _hey—_ what do you think you’re doing?”

Shane walked through the tidy living room, squinted at family pictures hung from the walls. None of them had Ryan in them, nothing pointed him to Ryan. “Ryan!” He shouted, his voice echoed through the small apartment. “Ryan?” He opened a door closest to him, a bathroom.

Shane looked through the apartment with Ryan’s aunt hot on his trail, she doesn’t try to kick him out physically but such creative words are thrown at him.

“Ryan!” He stepped into the desolate kitchen, two teenagers sit petrified around their table as they talked amongst each other. Their eyes wide as they spot Shane come near them, taking the oldest of the two’s forearm to pick him up.

“Hey man! Watch it—”

“Where’s Ryan?” 

“R—Ryan?” The teenager looked at his mother, then back to Shane. “Didn’t he leave earlier?”

“It’s a lie, where is _he_?”

“It’s— It’s not a lie!” The teenager rambled, pointed a shaking finger over to the door near the kitchen. “His room is there! _C—check!_ check it to see if I’m lying!”

Shane doesn’t hesitate to run over to the door and avoided Ryan’s aunt as much as he could. He opened the door to Ryan’s room and everything, his agitated heartbeat to the adrenaline in his veins come to a subtle stop. It was… Ryan’s _room._

An empty, gloomy, little room with a twin bed and a desk where his backpack rested. Bare walls, void of any posters of any kind but just _white_. This was it? This was Ryan’s room? The bicycle outside made sense to Shane now.

Shane isn’t sure when his mother died but he must have been living in this room since he was a child. And this was it?

He forced the frustration gathering in his chest when he saw Ryan’s unkempt bed. He was sleeping before he left, something bothered him and woke him up. His signature red scarf was next to his pillow, utterly still. Ryan left in a hurry, wherever he went. 

Where did you go Ryan?

Shane walked over to reach for the scarf, feeling the thin cotton through his fingers. It was old, this thing, it was falling apart in Shane’s hands. He was one-hundred percent sure if he had pulled on any of the loose threads, it would no longer be a scarf, it would be a pile of red strings. Yet, he doesn’t dare to do anything to it because it’s the last thing he has of Ryan until he finds him and brings him home.

“Are you done yet?” A voice called out to Shane, it was Ryan’s aunt. She was leaning on the doorway, looking into Ryan’s room too. He wanted to tell her to leave him be but another part of him itched to look for Ryan and... bring him back to an igloo of his room?

No, that doesn't sound right.

“Where’s the rest of his things?” Shane demanded.

“What things?”

Shane scoffed, _of course._ He walked out of Ryan’s room without another look to Ryan’s aunt or Ryan’s cousins. He’s halfway out of the apartment with Ryan’s scarf in tow when someone grabbed onto his arm. As much as he despised people touching him, he doesn’t dare to risk having to spend time in jail and charged for hitting an old lady, Ryan’s guardian no less.

(If she dared call herself that, keeping her nephew locked in a room that deemed any basement like a five star hotel.)

“Tell Ryan to come home, would you?” She pleaded, no sign of sadness in her eyes. “His aunt misses him.”

Shane held the urge to laugh in her face and ripped his arm away from her touch impassively. He left the apartment aggravated and with Ryan’s scarf. 

Where would he _begin_ to find Ryan out this late? Where would he go? The only place Shane could think about was Tasty’s and the library he trespassed once before. Steven wouldn’t have the heart to see Ryan work overtime anymore and security would arrest him for trespassing after hours. 

Then _where?_ Where is he?

“Where are you Ryan?” Shane breathed out, opening the front gate and out into the street. He didn’t notice anybody else with him out this late until he caught sight of some fancy looking shoes.

Too distracted by Ryan’s whereabouts, Shane looked up puzzled to meet face to face with somebody he wasn’t fond to see tonight, (or ever again in his eternal life.)

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Andrew doesn’t reply to him, face stoic while he tilted his head at Shane. He’s wearing some stupid ass hat too, bringing up some pathetic excuse that _it makes him invisible to human beings_. Right. A perfect excuse to wear such hideous hat out in the open. It wasn’t like reapers had a sense of style anyway, they’re always wearing black and too busy bothering the ever living shit out of Shane. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking that of you, Shane Madej?” Andrew pondered, no smile in sight. He wasn’t happy to see Shane either. (Touché.)

“Don’t say my name,” Shane snarled, “we’re not _buddies_. You have no business to loiter here. Why are you here?” 

“Why are _you_ here? I know what I’m doing here. You seem rather lost,” Andrew inquired, solely illuminated by the moon’s reflection on him. “Is this location exclusive to you, goblin? Are you hiding gold underneath the soil?”

Shane squinted his eyes, “I could smite you off this Earth in a second, even then, you still would annoy me until my last day.”

Andrew’s lips purse, moved away from Shane and over to the gate of Ryan’s house. Shane’s telling him to _fuck_ off and get away from Ryan’s house in his head. “It doesn’t seem that they’re here,” Andrew whispered, turning to Shane, then to the scarf in Shane’s hand.

“What business does a reaper have here? Go home—”

“I’m here to collect a soul, what else?” Andrew informed, his eyes focused on Ryan’s scarf, “but they’re not here.” Andrew frowned, looking over at Shane again. “Perhaps you might be of use. Say, do you know a Ryan Bergara? He’s scheduled to die tonight and was assigned to me.”

 

* * *

 

 **7 Hours Earlier**  

“Damn, you do have it _bad_ ,” Kelsey told him, taking another mouthful of the peanuts she’s eating and flicked the leftover into a bowl. “I remember when I had a crush on my first boyfriend, _jesus_ , was I a _mess_.”

“It’s not a crush,” Ryan corrected, sweeping around the restaurant. “He’s a friend, I think.”

Kelsey hummed, mouth full of peanuts. “Uh huh. The way you spoke about him reminded me lots about my second boyfriend.” She took a long exhale, Ryan looked at her expecting her to daydream, she’s just fixing her nails. “He called me baby too.”

“How do you know he calls me baby?”

“I didn’t,” Kelsey grinned, her eyes back on Ryan, “oooooh, Ryan’s in love! Or you could have the biggest crush on this guy.” 

Ryan rolled his eyes, “no, no. You've got it all wrong. He doesn't call me baby.” He’s blushing now, hiding his red cheeks by sweeping maniacally. He’s been sweeping the same area for five minutes now and it was Shane’s fault. 

“Why not? Is he older than you? Oh my _god_ , Ryan how old is he?”

Ryan’s about to discredit that to her, except… he doesn’t know Shane’s age. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Ryan!” Kelsey slammed her hand on the table, peanuts flying dramatically onto the floor and on Ryan’s shoes. 

“He looks our age though!” He insisted and frowned at the mess on the floor. “I swear he couldn’t be older than thirty!”

“I’ll take your world for it,” Kelsey replied unconvinced, stood from her chair and ruffled Ryan’s hair. “It wouldn’t be ideal to lose my employe if they ever got a sugar daddy. Especially before I try and snatch one up.”

“He’s not—"

“Oh poor baby,” Kelsey cooed, taking Ryan’s face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks. “It’ll all work out between you and your boyfriend. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Kelsey, he’s not—” Ryan began but Kelsey is walking away from him. 

“I’m leaving first Ryan,” Kelsey interjected, took her purse from over the bar counter and tossed her hair to the side. “You can leave when Steven gets here.” She’s walking over to the door when she turned around and points a nimble finger at him.

“You _better_ leave to rest and eat, Ryan. I’ll irritate you until you die about it.”

“Okay Kelsey,” Ryan smiled, his arms remained to his sides. He was pretty hungry anyway, he didn’t think to hold it in any longer and sneaking into the kitchen at his house wasn’t Ryan’s favorite thing to do. 

It’s been a few days since he started working here. And everyday was the same for him, wake up, go to class, go to work, get home at ten at night, study. (And, he added, _don’t forget your glasses!!_ On that list.)

It wasn’t exciting. He knew it was going to be repetitive and tiresome considering that he’s been working extra shifts helping Steven sweep around the restaurant while he served customers and to save up for his apartment. All in all, he doesn't _hate_ it. His job distracted him from thoughts that plagued him all last week and he could proudly say that Shane only appeared in his mind _two_ times in three days now.

The incident with the zippo lighter was the last time he tried to call out to Shane. He could try and say that it’s because he _is_ forgetting about him but in reality, he’s been working and studying his ass off because the semester is nearing its end.

Christmas is around the corner too. Once his holiday break began, he’ll be able to work more to buy himself a present.

(For all the good work he’s done, he think he might buy himself a new jacket or contacts!) 

His last semester at UCLA is the following spring of next year and graduation couldn’t come soon enough. By then, he’ll have an _official_ degree that would guarantee him a real career in the long run. Perhaps gather enough money to save up for his own apartment and back into the city.

Everything about the future kept him optimistic. The thought that he's actually starting to live life the way he always wanted to. The way his mother wanted him to and he would have a chance to set his future in the right path. It made him happy, to think about traveling around the country and visiting places he’s never seen. Visiting New Orleans again, sitting in Cajun’s and thinking about buying a third order of jambalaya.

Time passed promptly at work. He served customers if they walked in, sweep around for the millionth time and sit around thinking about how well his life is treating him now. He must have been deep in thought when he heard the bell atop of the front door ring and saw Steven, greeted him with a smile and a wave of his hand.

Steven shook the rain off of him, setting his umbrella on the floor with a sigh. Nobody is with Steven today, it is a Thursday after all. “Hey, Ryan! You hungry?”

Ryan stared at paper bag set in front of him, the logo of a burger joint printed on the side and the smell of fast food had Ryan drooling. “You didn’t have to—”

“Kelsey told me that you weren’t taking care of yourself, it's no big deal,” Steven insisted coolly, tying his apron around his waist, “eat, go home and rest. If you come here, I’ll lock you out in the rain.” 

Ryan grimaced, “what’s with all of you threatening me? I’m just working.” Ryan ate anyway, finally relaxing his body after excruciating overtime. Finals were next week too, throwing that on the big ass list of things Ryan has to do before he can rest at night.

“Oh right!” Steven suddenly exclaimed, reaching for his backpack. “Kelsey told me that she forgot to give this to you,” Steven sat in front of Ryan and slid a blank envelope next to him. He could guess what it is, but upon opening it, his heart skyrocketed out of his chest.

“It’s your first paycheck for the week,” Steven beamed and gave him a thumbs up before he rose from his seat.

“B—but it’s _so_ much, I couldn’t—”

“You _did_ work over forty hours, man. Just take it and spend it the way you want to.”

Ryan’s first paycheck rested in his hands, money that he had earned by working for the first time. And he’ll get paid again _next week_.

But god, this could cover more than he thought it would. Treating it as a child, Ryan placed his envelope inside of his own backpack and stood to leave. He thanked Steven for the food with an abominable hug in which he demanded that Ryan should _pay me back with food later!_

He goes home with a skip in his step, nearly tripping over his feet every. He’ll go home and take a nap, then he’ll study and then he’ll go back to work tomorrow, and it would be the same routine again.

Ryan didn’t mind though, not when they’re paying him for his labor.

His aunt isn’t home when he got there, but his cousins are. He looked at them as they played with their console in the living room, they pay him no heed until he passed by the television to his room.

“Ryan! Move out of the way!”

“Sorry, I’m just—” Ryan turned back to his younger cousins, both of their eyes locked on the screen. “Did you both eat yet?”

His cousins stare at him shockingly as if he had lost his mind. The oldest of the two shook his head, “nah, ma didn’t leave anything today but she said that she’ll make us food later.” 

“Until then?” Ryan frowned, looking back into the kitchen. “Do you want me to make you both something? As you play?”

“Damn, man what’s gotten into you?” His cousin drawled, smiling at Ryan cheekily. “It wouldn’t hurt though… my brother’s been hungry for a while.” 

“Okay, mac and cheese?” 

His cousins looked at him before laughing hysterically. “Are you serious?”

“That’s all I know about cooking!” Ryan defended his pride, his mom taught him to make mac and cheese when he was younger, it was one of the only things he ate nowadays.

“It’s fine, Ryan,” the oldest cousin replied, going back to his game. His brother though, kept his eyes on Ryan a bit longer, stared at him with a gleam of curiosity in his eye, then followed him into the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Ryan set down his backpack on the dining table and washed his hands. “You should go play with your brother.” 

“No it’s okay,” he reassured, “I want to help you.” His youngest cousin was only the ripe age of nineteen, finishing his first year of college and a brilliant boy. He never really showed hostility towards Ryan before but didn't try to talk to Ryan whenever his mom was around. Which was understandable, she controlled her children’s every move.

“Okay, do you know where the cheese is, buddy? Hopefully you’re better at this than me.”

His cousin laughed, “yes. Actually, I came in here because I wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

Ryan softly smiled, removing the lid of one of the pasta jars. “I’m fine, I was just at work all week.”

“You have a job? Really? Where?”

“At a restaurant. I got the job last week, I never done anything like that before, it tires you out—hey, what are you doing?” Ryan’s cousin took the macaroni jar away from Ryan.

“This is the wrong type of pasta Ryan,” his cousin shook the jar in Ryan’s direction, “listen I’ll make this for my brother, why don’t you go take a nap or something? I’m worried that you’ll pass out then we’ll both be in trouble.”

“Are—are you sure? I don’t mind to—”

“Go to sleep Ryan,” his cousin urged him out of the kitchen and jerked a finger to his bedroom. Ryan sighed in defeat, taking his backpack and dragging his feet over to his bedroom.

“Tell me if you need any help!” He shouted then closed the door to his bedroom. He didn’t notice how tired he _actually_ was until he saw the marvelous form of his bed. He took off his scarf and placed his belongings elsewhere. With a groan, he jumped on his mattress and looked onto the ceiling. It’ll be late when he wakes up, he wouldn’t have any energy to do anything else if he naps.

Turning to his side, he placed his scarf next to him and closed his eyes. A nap wouldn’t hurt.

 

* * *

 

Ryan dreamt of nothing. Frequently, he found himself as a victim to sleep paralysis. He was conscious, the white noise ringing in his ear drums worsened making it difficult to sleep and yet, he couldn’t move.

For the past few hours (he thinks,) Ryan heard hushed voices outside of his window. At first, he thought it to be Jen and Maycie, but a male voice threw him off.

They became frequent and thunderous as he attempted to succumb to his slumber, as if they were teasing him through the window. Didn’t they get the memo? Stay away from his house in a reasonable ten mile radius or else he’ll have to find that ol’ grumpy goblin husband of his to smite them all out.

Ryan’s close to falling back into dreamland when the whispers become vigorous. Practically shouting directly into his ears now, it would be tolerable to just interrupt his sleep and scare him half to death inside of his own room at this point. The whispers are unpleasant and eventually Ryan feels himself tremble in his bed.

He wants them to leave. To leave him alone and never come back. What did they want from him anyway?

The voices do not cease, if anything they’re echoing hisses in his ears, Ryan gave up and opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of his name. He can’t see anything without his glasses, a blurry image of his aunt is standing near his bed with her arms crossed.

When Ryan can see again, he sat up and tried to cower away from her as much as he could. It’s silly, he wasn’t nine years old anymore and yet, there he was. She looked pissed, absolutely vivid from what little light illuminates his room.

“When were you going to tell me you had a job?” She seethed, no effort in wasting her breath shouting at Ryan.

“Who told you?”

“Ah,” she chuckled, “so you do have a job. This is yours too, right?” His aunt reached over to his desk and shoved his recent paycheck in his face.

“Why do you have that?” 

“The real question is when were you going to tell me you were getting paid?” 

“I was going to tell you, I was just busy—”

“ _Bull_ ,” Ryan grew weary as she waved his paycheck around, something in gut tells him that he should take it away from her. He doesn’t have time to react before his aunt is leaving his room with his paycheck in hand. 

“Wait—” 

“I’m keeping this,” she asserted acidly, not bothering to look at Ryan. “Think of it as payment for the years you’ve lived here.” 

Ryan jumped from his bed, lethargic from sleep but followed behind his aunt until she sat in her kitchen. “That’s not _fair._ That’s my money and I earned that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll be handing me your paychecks from now on if you want to continue living here.”

“But—”

“Am I clear?” 

Ryan watched as his aunt scowl at him. She stared daggers at him and forced him to submission, whether if it were about dinner or cleaning the house when she wasn’t here, she never failed to do it to him.

“No.” Ryan stated firmly, standing straighter. “No. It’s _not_ clear. You’re not taking _my_ pay for your benefit,” Ryan snatched the paycheck out of her hands. “You will not be taking anything from me anymore.”

“You cannot talk to me like that, I am your aunt. I am _your_ guardian.”

“You are,” Ryan nodded, “you’re also a mother of two children. Or have you forgotten about that? Do you even know how long—”

His aunt stood up suddenly from her seat, the chair screeching loudly against the kitchen tiles and fell to the floor with a boisterous crash. For a moment, he feared that she would slap him, hit him or even call someone on him. Instead, she took in a sharp breath and jerked her head to the direction of he front door of her apartment. “Leave, leave right now.”

“What?” 

“Leave my home, you cannot talk to me like this. Keep your money, just leave my house.”

Dazed, Ryan kept his eyes on his aunt to see any sign of hesitation. There wasn’t any, she was downright serious. She was furious and if he took a step closer she would undoubtedly slap the life out of him. Afraid, Ryan turned away from the kitchen and grabbed his shoes by the door.

“Where are you going, Ryan?” He heard a softer voice and Ryan turned to them, tears shone in his eyes. His youngest cousin stared at him with a crestfallen expression and Ryan couldn’t bring himself to tell him the truth. 

“I’ll be back, sleep early. You have school in the morning.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ryan ripped the front door open and stepped onto the freezing night air of December. Without thinking, he jogged across his yard and onto to his neighborhood.

He couldn’t stop bawling now, his aunt didn’t mean what she said. She regularly picked a fight with him over _anything_ and Ryan always came back unharmed back to that house. She loved him, he knows that she does deep, deep down inside, she loved him like his mother did.

His _mother_.

Ryan sobbed, his mother’s sister thought of him as a burden, as another mouth to feed. He gets it, without him she would have had a wealthier house, she wouldn’t have to leave her ex-husband to take care of Ryan, she would have lived elegantly if it weren’t for him. His cousins would be going to a better school than the one they were going to now. Life without him was paradise to them. 

He—he could search for an apartment tomorrow. He’ll get roommate to help him pay rent, he’ll—

Ryan felt himself pushed backwards violently, losing his footing and falling onto the pavement. He turned his head only to hiss at the stinging pain in the back of his head. He doesn’t have any time to register _anything_ at all before his head is covered with linen. He can see through it vaguely, but his head really hurts and his vision blurred with every passing second.

“Got… him.”

“Does… money… on him?”

Ryan heard the sound of a car’s engine before he’s shoved inside somewhere colder. It reeked of weed, wherever he is. And whoever is touching him does too. He leaned his head back and hit the back of a seat cushion. He’s… he’s in a car.

Fuck, wait. He’s in _who’s_ car?

Dreading what’s about to come, Ryan elbowed the hands on him and tried to stand up. The agony radiating from his head stopped him from doing anything else and he ended up on the car’s filthy carpet. He yanked  the fabric from his head though and scooted himself closer to the car door as much as he could.

He saw a guy, blinking at him in disbelief. He’s a rugged man, beard covering his jaw and most of his neck, wearing ripped clothes—nothing cozy for a cold night. They weren’t... “Hey, man. Stop fucking moving so much.”

“P—please,” Ryan stuttered, swaying back and forth in discomfort. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” someone else scoffed, Ryan can see the car moving from where he is but he can’t see who is driving them. Two men kidnapped him just now or mugged him. Or kidnapped him to mug him then kill him. He doesn’t know what’s worse.

“Y—you hit me,” Ryan proclaimed to whoever it is, furrowing his eyebrows and reached for the side of his throbbing head. “I shouldn’t believe you.”

The man in front of Ryan looked to the driver, mumbled at them and Ryan studied him. He ignored the pain in his head and tried to recollect himself. He’s shockingly close to the car’s door, if he sat up, opened it and jumped out... He’ll be injured and delirious but if he ran fast enough and… and if he found a match or a lighter he can call Shane. 

Ryan does just that, he stood on the moving car but miscalculated the speed and fell back to the seat. He alerted the rugged man, although that doesn’t stop him and he tried to open the car door frantically. It doesn’t open and he’s aggressively tossed to the backseat again, he’s about to throw a punch or _something_ when he feels something cool against his neck.

No, no.

He doesn’t need to look to know it’s a knife.

“I said don’t _move_!” The rugged man howled, his voice echoed with the sound of the car’s tires tearing through the bumpy road. Ryan saw the road ahead of him, a street that he doesn’t recognize, no sign of civilians or buildings. He was… alone. If he were to jump out, he had a huge chance from being killed by these two men or get lost around these parts and _then_ die of hyperthermia. Both things that he did not want to do. He was screwed. 

“Okay, okay,” Ryan breathed, “I—I have money, please. I’ll give it to y—you. Don’t hurt me.”

“You got money?” The man questioned, his warm breath near Ryan’s cheek.

“Y—yes. I’ll give it to you. Just l—let me go.”

The rugged man doesn’t reply to him but looked back to the driver. “We’ll take the money, but we’re going to kill you.”

“W—wait!” Ryan leaned back, throwing himself away from the knife on his neck. “Please don’t!” He feared for his life, cursing himself from leaving his house at night. Now, they’re going to kill him and leave his body to rot. They’re going to—

“Don’t scare him, man,” the driver sneered, keeping himself unseen from Ryan altogether. “Let him go, he can’t get out.”

The knife disappeared from his neck and Ryan hid into himself with the chance to _breathe_. Ryan wanted to cry again, to bawl and sob and try to find anything, anything at all that would connect him to Shane. He wanted to call for him to help him, to save him, to come to him and take him away from them. He’ll do anything if got to be with Shane right now.

He forced himself to keep a blank expression in front of these unknown men. Who began to talk amongst themselves, he let them talk as Ryan touched his scalp. He’s not bleeding from the back of his head but he is from his forehead. Crimson blood stained his fingertips when he moved his hand away. If he passed out, he’ll be fucked for sure. 

“We’ll take his money, then what?” The rugged man asked, jerked his head over to Ryan. “We’re _not_ letting him go.”

“We’re not letting him go, dumbass!” The driver raged, and Ryan felt himself flinch. It was cold in this car and his jacket was left at his house. He was defeated, they were going to take his money and kill him.

“Should we take him to boss? He’s not much of a eye sore, attractive. We could sell him.” The rugged man muttered and grinned at Ryan who grounded his jaw. If they touched him—he might actually punch whoever did first until they kill him with that knife. 

“Yeah, maybe,” the driver agreed, reaching over to the car’s passenger seat. He gave the rugged man something that Ryan didn’t catch. Knowing that it would be a long ride to wherever, Ryan just looked out of the window. Trees pass by as they take him farther away from his house. 

Except he has no home anymore. His aunt kicked him out, Shane told him to never contact him, Steven also kicked him out to rest and now he was here. Nowhere near any of them, alone and cold. If these men didn’t kill him, he was sure he’ll die somehow. 

Ryan wished that he summoned Shane again. To see how he was doing, if he was doing well and if he wasn’t working too much. He wanted to thank him again, for entertaining him for a little while in New Orleans, for paying for him and for being a good tour guide. He wanted to see him again and tell him. He wanted to talk to him and he wanted to— 

He—

He wanted to tell him that he liked his company.

But why was he drawn to this stranger? Who was he and _why_ did he think about him on the daily? 

Ryan sighed, turning his head over to the rugged man who shoved a cigarette in his mouth, holding a lighter in his hand—

 _Wait_. Ryan’s eyes widened when he saw the man flick the zippo lighter on and a beautiful, _amazing_ flame appeared.

“Shane,” Ryan gasped out, steady on his feet and inched closer to the flame.

“Shane! _Shane_!” Ryan threw himself on the seat and blew on the lighter’s flame but he’s pushed back before he could even try and Ryan let out a harsh breath. He’s afraid that the man would threaten him with knife again. Thankfully, he pressed all of his weight on Ryan.

Panting, Ryan threw punches to the man to get him _off_. He doesn’t. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? Are you trying to make this worse? I told you to stay still.” 

Ryan nodded obediently, anything to get this man off of him. He does but not before scaring him again with his knife. “You—”

The car came to an abrupt stop and Ryan dreaded it. He doesn’t have much time anymore, he could try to find that lighter on the man. He’s about to move his arm to the man’s coat when he noticed that he hadn't reacted. 

“What’s going on? Why did you stop?” Did they not intent to stop? The rugged man shoved himself away from Ryan and over to the driver. 

“There’s—there’s an asshole in the street.”

Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. It would be too much a coincidence. Shane wouldn’t have known if Ryan was there. They—they were messing with him, this was part of it. He thought it were a hallucination on his part until he saw the rugged man swear under his breath and opened the car door to get out.

Ryan slowly turned his face over to the windshield, blinked away the light coming from the headlights and there was in fact a man in front of the car. Ryan let out a sob, finally letting himself break down as he watched the rugged man tentatively walk towards the man who stopped their car with his hand.

Shane looked exactly the same since the last time Ryan saw him. He had a full grown beard, wearing his glasses and showing off his casual attire. He looked healthy. He carried Ryan’s scarf in his hand and peered at Ryan from inside the car. Ryan moved over to open the car door when a voice stopped him. 

“Don’t move,” the driver revealed himself, a young looking man, couldn’t be older than Ryan. The rugged man must have been his father or uncle. He held a knife in his hand, in a second he could kill Ryan. “Don’t move, we’ll be on our way the second—”

The sound of glass shattering interrupted the driver and Ryan shut his eyes. He heard synchronized groaning and somebody shouting, he began to fear for his life when he heard unusual shrieking and opened the car door to jump out. He fell onto the road, scraping his hands on the grey pavement. He’s free, he’s fine—Shane is here. He’s _here_.

Making sure he didn’t dream Shane, he looked over to the car. He came close to shout in fear at the sight of it. The car is mangled, the rugged man strewn on the roof, dented the car inside of itself and shattered the windshield with it. He didn’t see the other man anywhere else. Ryan convinced himself to run when someone grabbed onto him.

He let out a shriek when a warm hand touched his wrist. But he recognized that touch, it was the same one from New Orleans, the same one from the time at the cemetery. It was Shane’s warm touch that he craved, he was touching him again.

Ryan looked up at Shane, keeping his eyes on him. “Shane—”

“You’re bleeding,” Shane pointed out, voice deep. “Are you okay?”

Ryan nodded, shivering under Shane’s touch. “Y—yes.”

“Why did you leave your house Ryan? It's late! Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous LA is?” Shane tugged on the sleeve of his coat and dabbed Ryan’s wound gently, wiping away any excessive blood from his face.

“I—I was at my wits end trying to find you,” Shane scrambled to take off said coat and draped over Ryan’s shoulders. He held his hands on his shoulders for a minute, just holding him and trying to warm him up.

“Its… it’s a long story,” Ryan responded, frowning. “You were trying to find me?”

“Yeah,” Shane smiled, taking Ryan’s scarf into his hands again and wrapping it around Ryan’s neck sluggishly. “My word. How could you leave the house without your branding? It was practically screaming out your name.” 

Ryan smiled back at him, taking all the courage that he had left to wrap his arms around Shane’s waist. Hiding his face into Shane’s sweater and breathing him in.

The yearning in his chest disappeared, no matter what would happen afterwards, having him there alongside Ryan was enough. He felt Shane return his embrace warily, sighing and resting his cheek on Ryan’s hair.

“How did you find me?” Ryan breathed into Shane’s chest. Shane exhaled momentarily before speaking. 

“Don’t worry about that… you really scared me, little guy,” Shane whispered, “I heard you scream for me and—and I had to punch information out of countless assholes to find you—and,” Shane pulled Ryan away by his shoulder, looking down at him with downcast eyes. “You made me do all kinds of crazy shit tonight, don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ryan gave Shane a grin, tired but apparent. He looked at him until he felt his lip quiver and hid himself further into Shane. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeated, holding Shane closely to him. He never wants to let him go.

If Shane didn't feel the invisible magnetic pull between them or if he left him at his house with no promise of seeing each other, it didn’t matter. Feeling Shane’s beard scape his forehead, his composed breathing matching Ryan’s own and his arms around him was all that Ryan thought about. It terrified him that he _never_ wanted to let go.

He felt Shane squeeze him, holding him as secure as he could. He ignored the fumes emanating from the wrecked vehicle and dismissed the voice of a man groaning. He knew that Shane wouldn’t let anything happen to him and he wouldn’t have the heart to leave Ryan there alone.

“We should go,” Ryan suggested tepidly, his eyes half-lidded and his vision started to blur again. “We… should go before the car explodes or something.” He’s sure that he’s mumbling nonsense. Shane chuckled at him anyway, keeping him steady with his hand. 

“That won’t happen,” Shane responded, “It would be cool though, we’d run away dramatically together.”

Ryan tried to laugh, he ended up stumbling on his feet and onto the pavement. He doesn’t know if it was the ache from his forehead, but Ryan felt himself sway from side to side in somebody’s arms. He heard another grunt before he succumbed in darkness.

Ryan woke up on his bed, alone. The morning sun illuminating from his window through the curtains. He was covered with his blankets and scarf still around his neck untied. Unfamiliar, was all he felt waking up. It was his bed, yes, his bedroom and his things around him, what’s wrong? 

Then it hit him, causing him to open his eyes suddenly. His room is warm.

Ryan woke up comfortably warm, his aunt must have turned the heater on today.

He supposed it _was_ Shane that left him to his aunt and went home. He was probably hallucinating everything Shane had said or he had dreamt it all. Something deep in his mind tried to conclude that there was no way Shane would come to his aid.

It was useless, the events from yesterday are imprinted in his memory now. They play in a loop up until the point Shane comes to him and saved his life. It was a reach to think it didn’t happen at all.

Ryan lifted his hand over to his forehead, fingers grazed a bandage where he was bleeding before. That’s odd, he doesn’t remember doing that. Disoriented, Ryan sat up to get ready for class when a piece of paper flew off him.

It landed on his thigh and he read it hastily. A wide smile appeared on his face, keeping himself from laughing out loud in hopes of not waking up the neighborhood. He’s not sure how many times he’s read the note before he tossed it near the vase with the dying roses. Ryan walked out of his room warm, cheerful and promising himself to take it easy on himself.

He doesn’t notice the roses springing back to life one by one. Their pedals a red dye and glowed a brighter color just like they were weeks ago.

 

 _I took you home last night if you’re wondering. Which I’m sure you are, you ask too many questions. I didn’t notice the roses on your desk before. Does that mean you liked them? Take care of yourself._  

_—Shane._

 

* * *

 

In the end, Ryan had a decent morning. Nothing was off, he attended his classes briskly and ate a decent breakfast in between. He _did_ have a stack of homework to study back at home and his finals began on Monday, he had no way of procrastinating and working overtime at his job (Steven would surely strangle him to death if he found a way to do that, he was already at his wits end with Ryan.)

Though with finals nearby, Ryan didn’t let it stress him out as much as it should. He’s been driving away every emotion he’s been feeling since last night to the back of his mind. Let it fester there and grow into something else that _wouldn’t_ distract him from what was actually important.

But it came back to bite him in the ass. Seeing Shane for the first time since New Orleans and the fact that Shane came for _him_.

Sure, somehow Shane heard him through the flame but he rescued him and (if) Ryan wasn’t dreaming, Shane searched for him when he heard him calling out for him, and took him _home_. When in reality, Shane had the opportunity to ignore him and leave him on his own.

If that didn’t scream, _I’m not avoiding you on purpose, I’m trying to protect you from me_ , then Ryan doesn’t know what’s going on in that monumental head of his.

Last night also raised the question if Shane had heard him before through the zippo lighter flame. He couldn’t decide if that was embarrassing to admit or not, since Shane didn’t reply or talk to him afterwards. 

“Hey, Ryan, _Ryan_!” A hushed voice brought Ryan back to his surroundings. He realized that he had leaned his head on his hand, sighing dreamily at the library’s ceiling. Oh god. He was turning into one of _those_.

“Sorry, what?” He shook out of his day dreaming, Brent’s droopy eyes gawked at him across the table, lifted an eyebrow at him

“You okay man? You’ve been doing that all morning,” Brent asked, “we’re supposed to be studying remember?”

Ryan’s forehead creased, he is right… he’ll fail his finals at this rate. He could at least try to concentrate for _ten_ minutes and Brent could quiz him on the topic he’s read. He’s about to reply to Brent when he caught a glimpse a familiar figure behind Brent. It never failed to send a bone-chilling shiver through his body, fingers numb and eyes rounded with anticipation. He squinted his eyes and locked eyes with Jen across the library.

Jen was leaning against the library’s doorway, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on Ryan. She doesn’t care to avoid any other student that walks by, she let them walk through her as she waited patiently for Ryan. She gave him a smirk when Ryan looked at her but made no effort to walk over to him.

Deep in Ryan’s heart, he had the urge of putting aside his studies, run over to her and _tell_ her everything. He had to talk to somebody about this or else his emotions would engulf him and let him overwork himself to death.

Brent wasn’t the best candidate, if Ryan spilled out everything following up to his magical trip to New Orleans by teleporting himself and a ghost there; and then getting himself kidnapped and nearly mugged and _then_ rescued by said ghost slash non-human… he would call the police on him. 

“Ryan, _holy shit_ , are you listening man?” Brent whispered to him, leaning over to Ryan. “Are you feeling alright? Do you just want to leave?” 

“Huh?” Ryan averted his eyes from Jen, “oh, _no_ , no, sorry, I’m not in the right mind today. I appreciate you studying with me though.”

Brent’s lips pursed and Ryan felt him staring at him intensely, he’s doing that _Daysha_ thing, too. What the hell does everyone want from him?

“Hey, I…” Brent began, turned his head back and forth making sure he’s not disturbing anybody around them.

Ryan looked up from his textbook but his eyes fooled him and land over to Jen again. She’s there alright, still as a rock and staring at him. She probably knows that he’s been having an off week or maybe she’s been gossiping around too much about him and found out that he’s been mugged. Whatever it is, she knows _something_. “I didn’t have the chance to ask you before, Ryan. Would you like to go—”

“Sorry, Brent,” Ryan apologized, rose from his seat and arranged his things. Jen raised her eyebrow at him and left through the library doors wordlessly. “I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later right?” 

Ryan walked away before Brent could come up with a reply and followed Jen out of the library. It’s not as cold today, yet it continued to rain and Los Angeles’ humidity doesn’t serve Ryan well. Albeit the humid air, he found himself dragging his feet over to an empty bench and setting himself down with a groan. He hid his face with his hands and had the urge to scream at the top of his lungs, instead he blurted out: “Fuck me.”

“I can’t do that,” somebody replied, their cold body pressed next to Ryan. “I’m not... what’s the word— straight?”

Ryan snorted into his hands and looked up at Jen’s worried gaze. They don’t say anything for a while, but he let her hand faze through his back in a failed attempt to comfort him. 

“I know you’re not fond of ghosts. If you need to talk to somebody Ryan, now is the time,” she encouraged and Ryan gaped.

Jen has been his friend for years, she appeared to him when he was fourteen wondering about why he was alone and waiting outside in the rain. She never left his side that day, holding an umbrella above his head and ignoring people’s stares when they realized that the rain wasn’t hitting Ryan at all. Now here she was, her transparent hand on his back trying to make him feel better.

“I didn’t visit New Orleans alone,” Ryan revealed, he swallowed the lump in his throat and found the palms of his hands a lot more interesting. “Someone took me there.”

“ _What_?” Jen bellowed, she turned her head from side to side to look for anybody who must have heard her yell and Ryan didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was the only one who can. _Old habit_ , he guessed. Jen composed herself, quietly asking: “Who took you there? Why did they take you there?” 

“I… don’t know,” Ryan truthfully replied, hiding his face into his scarf. “I don’t know _why_. But I…”

He swallowed again, maybe it wouldn’t be ideal to say Shane’s name casually. The last thing he needed was Shane to be angry at Ryan because some ghost was following him around all the time. Ryan wasn’t even sure if Shane was a ghost or not, he could be someone dangerous and powerful than Jen herself. 

So, he told her everything he can. He doesn’t mention Shane’s name, but he described him as a tall, handsome, brown-ish haired man who wears coats all the time and looks pretty great in them and sometimes he wears glasses.  

(“Glasses?” Jen repeated, “like you!”

“Yeah, like me,” Ryan smiled, it was a rare sight but not for Ryan, he saw him wearing them twice.)

Ryan spent the rest of his morning talking to Jen about Shane. From the first time they met to what happened last night. She listened to every word and absorbed every detail Ryan mentioned. Nothing was left behind, he wanted to tell her everything that he knew and by the end of it he was almost tearful with joy of letting _everything_ he had bottled up inside out.

“The way you talk about him…” Jen shook her head. “It _almost_ makes you seem like a stalker.”

Ryan fought the urge to laugh out loud, “how am I _almost_ a stalker? That makes no sense, does that mean I’m half a stalker?”

“Everybody to their own, Bergara,” she giggled, “you’ve been having a rough time lately, I’m relieved that you told me instead of bottling it all inside that tiny body of yours.”

“I’m _not!_ I’m not tiny,” Ryan argued, pinching the bridge of his nose and smiling, “I thought you’d be supportive in my time of need not belittle me.” 

“I’m being supportive! Here,” Jen reached out her hand for him to hold. “Take my hand.”

“That's—you’re a ghost do I have to remind you all the time?” 

“Do _you_ have to remind me all the time?” Jen remarked, still holding out her hand for Ryan with a glare. “Are you curious how I died? Let me show you Ryan.” 

“W—what? No, no, I don’t think I wanna see that—”

Jen frowned, extended her hand over to Ryan’s again. “I want to show you… maybe It’ll give you answers as to why you can see us.”

Ryan opened his mouth to refuse but couldn’t find the words to say. For over two decades, he could see ghosts all around him without no definite explanation.

None of them spoke about how they died or gave Ryan any hint as to why he could see them. Jen is the only one who offered to _finally_ give him answers. Without a doubt in his mind, Ryan reached over to Jen’s hand and grabbed onto it.

Her hand is solid around his and Ryan yelped, startled he nearly retrieved his hand away. Her hand is colder than he anticipated, it was like holding thousands of icicles in his hand at once. 

But he was _touching_ her, something he could never do with any other ghost he’s encountered. Confused, he raised his head up to see her. Jen’s lips are purple, her face paler and her black hair stuck to her forehead. He doesn’t know what it means until he saw himself staring at his old middle school.

Ryan doesn’t dare to move, he could only watch as rain hit the roof and onto the front steps of his old school. He saw shadows of children flow out of the doors, parents waiting for them on the other side of the courtyard.

And there _he_ was. (Or his past self.) Secluded and sitting on one of the benches, a younger version of him wrapped his arms around himself in the freezing rain. Ryan remembered waiting for his aunt everyday, he never was offered to head back inside the school or risked catching a cold from walking home.

He remembers this day, it was the day—

“Hey!” Young Ryan turned his head over to the voice, furrowed his eyebrows and wrapped his jacket around him securely. He knew that he was thinking of leaving before whoever called him would come and talk to him. “Whatcha doing here by yourself?”

Ryan watched as Jen strode over to the younger version of him and sat next to him. She had an umbrella with her, a thicker coat than him and looked… younger than she does today. 

Ryan can’t hear what Jen said to his younger self anymore, he knew that she covered him from the rain and sacrificed her coat over for him. He doesn’t remember that she held him until the sun set, conserving as much heat as she could for him. He left her with her umbrella and coat when his aunt came to pick him up, he did not know how she got home.

Something in the back of Ryan’s mind tells him that she _did_ , but not the same anymore. He tried to look away as Jen stumbled home and passed out in her mother’s arms from the freezing cold. _Pneumonia_ , he thought they said.

Ryan sighed deeply as Jen, the girl he saw everyday sat with him until his aunt got there, goes home, passed out and repeat. He watched as she died in the hospital sometime later, but she’s there until the end of junior year, holding an umbrella over to Ryan’s head even though he knows that she’s dead.

The memory vanished as Ryan felt Jen’s hand pull away from his. He heard the doors of his campus slam open, students wandering outside disruptively as Ryan recovered from what he just witnessed. He doesn’t want to annoy jen with questions they both know the answers to. 

Jen exhaled, drawn-out and exasperated and purple lips curl in a smile, “you don’t have to ask. And I know you can’t talk anymore.” Jen motioned to the opened doors, she looked at Ryan again. “Every ghost you see… you see spirits of people that are connected to you. The ones that changed your life one way or another. If they haven’t, they will. That’s why I’m worried about you all the time.”

He ducked down, keeping his eyes on his worn-out shoes. _How?_ He thought, why?

Jen turned away, “I don’t know when your life is going to change, Ryan Bergara. But something tells me that it will soon and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

 

* * *

 

Ryan was washing the dishes at work when it all hit him at once. The guilt of being involved in Jen’s death, telling her everything he knew about Shane _and_ the reason he saw ghosts was because they’ll change his life somehow. It was a load of bullshit, he thought, enough to infuriate him and curse the idiot who thought that _he_ was chosen to see dead people.

He didn’t go to his other classes, didn’t bother to study and went straight into work to excessively clean the restaurant thoroughly five times. It was _that_ bad. He wanted to cry, he wanted to burst into tears wherever he was, no matter if he was alone or in public. He didn’t care anymore. 

Why him? Why was he damned to see the people that he knew? That helped him? That knew him? Dead and roaming Earth with nothing else to do? As if the almighty had drew out his name from a bowl and decided that yes, Ryan would see ghosts for the rest of his life.

If so, where is his mother? Why did she leave? _Why did she leave?_

His hand slipped and the glass he was scrubbing fell into the water, splashing him all over. He heard himself swear under his breath as he watched Kelsey apologize to some customers and walk over to Ryan.

“You okay, Ryan?” She uttered out, frowned deeply at Ryan and placed her notepad on the counter, “do you want to go home?”

“No… no, I’m okay,” he lied, gave her a fake smile and resumed to washing the dishes. “I’m okay, Kels.” 

Kelsey grew quiet and nibbled her teeth on her bottom lip, she caught Ryan’s tearful gaze reflected by the pristine plates. “If you’re so sure—”

“Kelsey!” Someone blurted out, interrupting her from speaking. She gave him an apologetic smile before she’s jogging away from Ryan to serve customers. 

Ryan couldn’t be more thankful, he preferred to be alone right now. In the blink of an eye, time passed as Ryan worked silently. Customers flooding in to drink their Friday night away and Ryan kind of wished he could join them. Kelsey doesn’t get a chance talk to him at all, even if he had, Ryan would avoid the already open wound.

He’s serving a couple when he trembled, the overfamiliar numb feeling spread through his body. He felt irritation bubbling in his stomach, _someone is here_. He composed himself and grinned at the couple as he wrote down their order but his heart almost stopped in his chest when he looked up.

Jen’s impatiently standing at the back of the restaurant, moving her arms exaggeratedly over to the storage room. He knows that she’s mouthing _come on! Come on!_ To him.

(Why are you mouthing words? He wanted to ask, I'm the only one who can hear you!) 

Ryan shrugged, ignored her and headed over to Kelsey. He’s halfway into his order when he shivered again, cringing and stumbling on his words.

Kelsey stared at him uncanningly and he shook it off as _cold breeze from the outside._ He glared at Jen, who _again_ , is gesturing over to the storage room.

“Can you take this? I have to check something,” Ryan handed Kelsey his notepad and pivoted to the storage room.

Jen’s not there when he stepped inside but she is the one who closed the door behind him. She blocked the only exit he has, making sure he wouldn’t run away in the middle of talking to her.

“Jen, _Jen_. I’m _at work_ ,” Ryan pleaded, keeping his breathing steady, “please, _please_ , tell me that this is good news.” 

“Oh, it’s better than good news,” someone else quipped behind him, frightened him half to death as he whirled around, hand over his chest as terror overtook his face. 

“Oh, my god—”

“Ryan, you wouldn’t _believe_ it,” Jen bounced on the spot, her eyes twinkled with mischief, “tell him Maycie, tell him! Or no, wait—I’ll tell him, _I’ll_ tell him.”

“It’s either you or me, pick Jen.”

“What is going on? I’m at _work_!”

Jen’s mouth snapped shut and she looked at Maycie, “you should tell him, he’ll be mad at me.”

“Mad at _you—_ ” Ryan groaned, digging his palms into his eyes. It’s six in the afternoon on a _Friday,_ he’s slacking and Kelsey would be on his ass for talking to himself in the storage room, “just tell me!”

Jen bit her lip, “I may or may _not_ have told Maycie about… the _man._ ”

“You—”

“I only described him to her! And she says—” Jen paused, she cowered into herself and lowered her head, “she says that it’s the goblin.”

Ryan isn’t sure what he had expected but he was sure it was not _that_. Blinking idly, he opened his mouth (he has no words to say) and closed it again.

“It’s true,” Maycie insisted, she floated to Ryan’s side and bumped (or attempts to) her shoulder with his. Ryan peered at her then to her hand, it’s the photograph they showed him weeks ago. It’s still obscure and Ryan couldn’t make anything out. “Take it and tell me it’s not him.”

“Maycie—” Ryan sighed, he was kidnapped, he touched Jen’s hand earlier, it wouldn’t surprise him anymore if crazy shit happened tonight.

He reached for the photograph with trembling fingers, sure enough, it was a _real_ photograph. He kept his eye on it, Maycie and Jen emitted frigid air to the back of his neck as he did. Nothing happened for a long minute, though as Ryan examined each crevice, each stain, the photograph became lucid. 

Soon enough, with the noise of the restaurant buzzing in his ears, he could see a figure. It was a tall man, holding his coat over his arm and shown walking away from the photographer. He turned at the exact moment the photo was taken and Ryan could recognize the furrow of his eyebrows down to the frown he gave Ryan whenever he’d escape him in New Orleans. 

“His name is Shane Madej, he’s the goblin.” 

Ryan observed the photograph, memorizing Shane. He doesn’t look any different than he does now, he looked… miserable. If he—if Shane was the goblin, did that mean their meetings, the summonings weren’t unexpected? Had they always been waiting to meet? Was somebody playing a prank on him? Is _Shane_ messing with him?

All these years with ghosts behind him, never touching him or hurting him because _goblin would have our heads._ Or when ghosts stare at him as he slept to make sure the goblin’s husband was safe. It was all because of Shane, it was always because of _Shane._  

“Why…” Ryan uttered out, lips quivering (from both the cold and his urge to bawl,) “Why are you showing me this?” 

“We thought you should know,” Jen smiled softly, inched closer to Ryan’s side, “rumor has it he’s planning to leave Los Angeles soon.”

“He’s what?” 

“He makes you happy, Ryan. Though, he _loathes_ us—”

“He doesn’t _—”_

 _“Shane Madej_ nearly turned us both into dust because _you_ said his name as a greeting,” Jen interrupted and stuck her mouth out at Maycie cheekily before she turned back to Ryan. “I don’t think you’ll be happy with him leaving, Ryan.”

Ryan opened his mouth when a knock is heard on the storage room’s door. “Ryan, you in there, man?”

“Yes! Give me a minute!” Ryan shouted, then a hushed: “Shane is a grown man, I do not control what he does and does _not_ do.” He’s about to walk out the door when Jen threw herself to the exit, arms extended on both sides of the doorway.

“I can walk through you, Jen.”

“You can, but you _wouldn’t_ ,” she warned and squinted her eyes. “Talk to your husband.”

“He’s not my husband,” Ryan corrected impatiently, grabbed to the door handle when Jen moves herself in front of it too.

“Do you want Shane to leave? Answer truthfully Ryan,” Jen provoked, “aren’t you curious of who he is now? He’s one of most powerful _deities_ out there and you’re not curious at all? He’s your husband!” 

“Don’t say that,” Ryan responded, narrowed his eyes at both of the ghosts.

“ _Stop_ saying that. Shane is not my husband. He’s not my betrothed, he’s not whatever you say he is! He might not be human, he might be a ghost! A demon, maybe! But why would I bother trying to tell him to stay for _my_ benefit? The guy’s told me countless times to _not_ talk to him anymore. Why would a deity hang around me, no less? Walking around with—” 

Ryan shut his mouth and grew quiet.

Thinking about it now, Ryan’s never seen any other ghost as odd as Shane before. (If he was one, of course.) Why Shane was different from all of them? The _distinct_ reason that caught Ryan’s eye when he first saw Shane; there was an important detail that separated Shane from the other ghosts he’s seen. 

Shane had a blade impaled through his chest, Shane _has_ a blade impaled through his chest.

 _Do you see anything unusual? On me, do you see anything, Ryan?_  

Oh, god. Was that why he asked Ryan? Is that why he rejected Ryan? Was the answer the blade? Was it the fucking _blade_?

Ryan turned to Jen and Maycie, confusion clouded both their faces and blinked when he offered them a toothy grin. “Say, do you see anything strange on Shane?” 

“Strange?” Both ghosts repeated, they looked at each other and shook their heads. “What do you mean by _on_ Shane?”

“Do… you not see it?” Ryan wanted to laugh clamorously until his throat dried out or cry. Maybe he’ll do both in a second now. Jen and Maycie don’t reply to him anymore and Ryan got his answer when Jen said: "oh, if you mean strange by an antisocial scary guy then yes, he has something strange on him."

It doesn’t make any sense, none of it ever did. Not since the moment they locked eyes in that park weeks before or when Ryan first summoned him by a _flame._  Nothing made sense, Ryan never had any answers to the questions Shane asked.

Nobody else heard Ryan through a flame, only Shane. Nobody else took them to New Orleans, Shane did.

(Maybe Ryan helped, he _doesn’t_ know.)

Now, Ryan stood in front of two ghosts who told him that Shane is his husband and that he made him happy and—

They don’t see the blade. 

Ryan messed with the knot on his apron, trying to take it off as quick as possible. He has to leave, he has to talk to Shane.

“Woah, hey wait a minute, what are you doing?” Jen stepped aside as Ryan ran out of the storage room and into the lobby, he returned with a pen and folded the photograph of Shane in half. 

Ryan took one long exhale and asked: “What’s Shane’s address?”

 

* * *

 

Shane’s home was a mansion. He lived closer from both UCLA and from Tasty (which doesn’t come as a surprise) but he did live far away from his own house. It was strange, considering that Shane and himself never crossed paths whenever he walked for class.

Not thinking of that now, he typed in the code at the gate (the one Jen gave him when she followed Shane home, Ryan promised to scold her when he had the time.)

He’s left speechless when he pushed the gate however, and all he can do is stare in awe.

Shane’s house was  _exquisite_ , immense and well-kept. From walls surrounding the area, trees and bushes all around the yard, the grass cut.

Fluorescent lights hang from every corner of the exterior, keeping the outside as bright as possible. The entrance of Shane’s house is nothing but elegant, tall columns tower over him and lead to a set of hazel double doors. The lights are on inside from the large windows, assuming that Shane must be home. How could he afford this? He must own a business or something.

Ryan stood in front of Shane’s home, suddenly catching the worst case of cold feet and pleaded with himself to run away back home as fast as he could. He left Kelsey and his coworkers to finish up, it wasn’t too late to go back and help.

It was best that way, he thought as he held his hand onto the cool surface of the door. He doesn’t belong here, this is—this was too much. This is a _rich_ person’s home, Ryan doesn’t belong here _._  

“Ryan?”

Ryan turned around at the sound of his name. And came face to face with Steven, face blank and scratched his head, equally as puzzled. “Ryan?” Steven repeated, tilting his head to his side.

“Steven?” What was Steven doing here? Was he mistaken, is this not… Shane’s house. “Is… do you live here?” Ryan gestured at the entire house as best as he could.

“Yes…” Steven confirmed nervously, “what… are you doing here?” 

Oh, Jen messed up.

“I thought this was someone else’s house, I am sorry—”

Suddenly, the doors that Ryan’s back used to protect himself opened, they creaked under his weight as Ryan jumped away and caught a faceful of Shane Madej.

He stared at Steven first then down at Ryan, holding nothing but the photograph with his address written on the back. He squinted his eyes in bewilderment and opened the door wider.

Shane hasn’t shaved, isn’t wearing his glasses (squinting at Ryan because he couldn't see) and wearing nothing but loose pants and a white shirt. If nobody told Ryan, he would assume that Shane was sleeping beforehand.

“What are you doing here?” Shane murmured, scratching the back of his head. “Wait— how are you here?”

“You know each other?” Steven asked, raising his eyebrow.

Shane and Ryan looked at him, then it clicked in Ryan’s ol’ head.

Shane is _Steven’s_ adopted uncle, the man that Steven would talk about all the time at work, Shane was the stubborn man who left him to pay the bills.

“Wait, are you—” Steven gaped at Shane and grinned, said nothing and passed by them both. Once inside, he shoved Shane outside, “I’ll leave you both to talk.” He shut the door before any of them could question what the fuck is happening.

“Ryan, what are you doing here?” Shane asked softly, clearing his throat and jammed his hands in his front pockets.

“I... don’t know, Shane,” Ryan admitted, “It’s been… stressful lately. I think—I think I’m here to ask you to not leave L.A.”

“You think?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan nodded, for the first time, he locked eyes with Shane. “How can you leave before showing me your movie collection? That’s just rude, sir.”

“Ryan—” Shane sighed exasperated, closing his eyes and waved his hand over to Ryan. “I think you should go.” Shane turned around briefly, the sword speared in chest shimmered when he did, a beaming blue blinded Ryan for a moment and it reminded him why he’s there in the first place.

“Why are you leaving?” He blurted out, throwing his hands down. “Why are you always running away from me?”

Shane whirled around and scoffed, the blade faded away but Ryan kept his eye on his chest.

“Why do you insist that _I’m_ following you?” Shane shouted back, annoyance overtook his features, “who summoned me to begin with?”

“Why are you leaving?” Ryan demanded, gaining confidence, “everytime we see each other, you end up leaving and now—now you’re leaving the city?”

“How do you know that? Did Steven tell you? It's—It's for a job,” Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. “I got a job somewhere else. Frankly, I want to leave and it’s not because of _you_. Newsflash, Ryan, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Why the _hell_ did you save me?” Ryan stressed, tears gathered around the rim of his eyes. The blue hue of Shane’s blade directly hit Ryan’s pupils, it really hurt. “Why didn’t you just let me handle it myself?” 

“That’s too far, Ryan,” Shane cocked his head, grounded his jaw. He ran a hand through his hair and laughed dryly, “you could have been severely hurt, you—you could have died! Do you understand that?”

Ryan gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth like a fish underwater. “Is it about me?”

“Ryan—”

“Don’t you think I deserve to know?” Ryan inched forward and stomped his foot in frustration, he watched as Shane rubbed his eyes and stepped back to his front door. “Is it because I didn’t tell you what’s  _on_  you in New Orleans?”

“What are you talking about?”

“If I tell you, would you stay?”

Shane mirthlessly chuckled, “that’s not—that’s _not_ how it works Ryan. How old do you think you are?”

Ryan watched Shane turn around _again_. Burning his retinas with the blue hue of his blade, Ryan squinted, “I see it! I promise that I do!” 

“I’m tired of talking about this with you,” Shane warned, his hand on his door knob. “I’m leaving for work, Bergara. I don’t want to call the cops on you just go home.” 

“Why aren’t you listening to me? I see it!” Ryan protested, then he pointed at Shane’s chest where the weapon's hilt rested, “the blade! I see it!”

Thunder clapped above them, roared in the sky as Ryan’s finger pointed at Shane’s chest. Shane looked down at Ryan’s finger and to his chest, the blade burned vividly and covered them both in a violent blue when Shane turned at Ryan horrified, eyes rounded and lips parted.

He doesn’t say anything, he bore his eyes onto Ryan.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” Ryan went on for him, feeling the sudden rain hitting him. “That you’re the goblin? That I see the blade, Shane? That I’m your _betrothed_?" 

Ryan isn’t sure if it’s because he’s tired or hallucinating, yet he caught wetness around Shane’s eyes. He blinked and turned his head away but it’s not long when he’s looking at Ryan again. Solemnly, he nodded, stepping away from his front door and hovered over Ryan.

His arms moved as if he wants to touch him. He doesn’t, he stood his ground.

“Yes,” Shane croaked, swallowed the lump in his throat like alcohol. “Yes, you’re my betrothed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (RE-UPLOADED: Messed up with posting oops.)  
> Hello again! Back from re-watching bfu, I don't know about you guys but I'm OBSESSED with the Axeman episode, my inspiration for the New Orleans chapter :') 
> 
> And we hit 500 hits too!!! Confetti emoji confetti emoji. I'm so happy everyone is enjoying my baby, it makes me really happy. Also thank you all for commenting! You're all so funny and I have to stop re-reading them because I wouldn't stop smiling for the whole day!
> 
> So this chapter... has to be one of my favorite chapters. It's the first that we /finally/ see Shane and Ryan grow closer and hey, maybe there's a surprise at the end. I dunno.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!! This one's a loooong one; 36k... whoops? I hope you enjoy!!!! \o/
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated!!!!!  
>  unbeta'd

_He touched him. Calloused fingers fumbled with tan skin, memorized the curve of his body pressed against his under the silky bed sheets. It burned him, a repulsive warning, one that if he were to touch him he would burn and burn and burn. He doesn’t remove his hands from his body, promising that no matter what he’ll love him today, tomorrow and now until forever._

Shane’s expression hardened, his eyes locked with Ryan’s outside of his home, keeping _him_ as the center of attention in front of a stranger. He is vulnerable, afraid if he were to move that it’ll all appear as a cruel nightmare and in reality he’s sweating his ass off in his own bed from a fever. Nothing happened when Shane raised his arm and he placed his shaky hand on Ryan’s head and stroked his forehead with his thumb.

_Say something_.

What was he supposed to say?

Shane stood in front of his betrothed, the man that he had searched for, the man who he unmercingly would turn the world upside down for. He was _here_ , with captivating brown eyes blinking drowsily and smiling whenever Shane’s thumb moved.

He was here. He was here to kill him.

Disoriented, Shane jerked his hand away hastingly and disregarded the stab of guilt he felt when Ryan’s smile slipped from his face.

“Could you… stay here for a moment?” Shane stated firmly, raising a finger at Ryan and turned around into his home.

He slammed the door shut, eagerly drew in a long breath when the tension is left on the other side of his door. His head fell back, unwillingly slammed the back of his head against the door. _His betrothed is outside, oh my god he’s going to die._

How did this happen? Did he do something absolutely atrocious that God was like fuck it, this man has to die? Was it fated that Shane would revive Ryan and his mother decades before?

He would never forget the yearning he felt when he resurrected Ryan, the warmth spread all over his aching body and all he could think about for _years_ was to take care of him when he saw him as a baby, a toddler, a boy—now a handsome young man thrown into Shane’s life.

It must have not been a coincidence that Shane was in Los Angeles _that_ night and _stayed_ here even though he absolutely loathed every second of it.

It was for Ryan. Without knowing a thing, it was always for him. He didn’t even _fucking_ know that his beloved kept him there through thick and thin. His beloved, who lost his mother.

His betrothed, outside on his porch right _now_ waiting for him.

“Did you work it all out?” Steven, from the couch of their shared home wiggled his eyebrows and shoved a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

“That’s not healthy,” Shane commented, his shoulders sagged and pressed himself further on the front door, as if a magnetic force pulled him towards the person outside of his house. He didn't fight it, believed that if he were to step further away from Ryan—he wasn’t sure if he wanted to right now.

“Maybe not,” Steven replied, taking another mouthful of chips. “I need it _now_ because all this time… it was _Ryan_ who you were pining over.”

“I wasn’t—”

“And he was pining over you in return!” Steven swore, he’s not pissed, more so in disbelief that his uncle and his coworker had met before and he didn’t catch on until _now_. “My boss thought it had been an older man, a sugar daddy. But it’s just _you_ and frankly I don't know If I prefer that.”

“A sugar daddy...” Shane spoke slowly as if it were absurd that Ryan would try and get a sugar daddy. He scrunched his nose at the thought and he buried a hand through his hair, his nails pressed on his roots. “Sorry to disappoint. But—Steven—”

“How did you both even meet? Was he the one you recommended to Kelsey? Oh my _god_ Shane.”

“He sees it, Steven,” Shane wailed, ran out of tears _now_ of all days in his drawn-out immortal life was just his luck. He wanted to cry his eyes out and bawl on the floor. Of joy? Of sadness? Who knows. “He _sees_ it! What do I do?!”

“He sees what?” Steven stood from the couch, reluctantly dragging his feet away from Shane. Don’t worry, he’s used to people being afraid of him.

After a moment of silence and Shane’s panting and Steven opened his mouth to ask: “What are you talking about?”

“What am I—” Shane scoffed, he pulled himself away from the door and towered over Steven. “He sees it,” he gestured with his index finger to his chest where the blade resided and thrust his finger in it’s direction ruthlessly, “he sees it, he’s my beloved, nobody in my time could see it and he’s here and I don’t know what to do and he’s going to— _oh my god_.”

Shane watched as Steven narrowed his eyes at him and tightened his lips. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

“The _blade_ ,” Shane hissed, taking both of Steven’s shoulders in his hands, jamming his fingers into his shoulder blades. “He can see the blade in my chest. He’s the only one who knows, other than myself and God himself!”

“And I,” Shane inhaled, pressing his forehead on Steven’s hair. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know…”

After another few silent, dreadful seconds (Steven had to cut that habit of his,) Steven puffed out his chest and reached for Shane’s head, dragging his fingers through his hair and onto his nape. “Shouldn’t you tell him that?”

“I already did.”

“ _Did_ you though?” Steven pulled away from Shane’s embrace, “you haven’t been too honest with me as much as you had been with him. Did you die from a stab wound to your chest…? Is that why you’re in so much pain?”

Shane began to pace back and forth, keeping himself near the front door again. “Yes,” he answered truthfully, placing his clammy palm where his wound had been and tapped it delicately. “Here, it’s right here.”

“Shane, I’m so sorry—”

“Ryan’s outside right now,” Shane shuddered, “what do I tell him? What do I do?”

“He’s _outside_?” Steven mouthed, tilted his head over to the front door and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You idiot, he’s outside? Alone? In the cold? _Alone_?”

Shane stiffened, squinted his eyes at Steven before jumping backwards to open the door of his house. Ryan stood there, leaning against one of the columns of his porch and rubbing his palms together.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked when he saw Shane, dazzled, trembling and just overall a mess.

“Yeah, yeah, uh,” Shane closed the door, tugging at his earlobe anxiously, “sorry about that.”

“What do you think we should do now?” Ryan frowned, wrapping his arms around himself. In times like these, Shane realized Ryan’s body language is similar to the men and women he’s dated before, shy around him because he’d look down at them with slumped shoulders or too timid to speak to him because he’s always angry at something.

The thought of Ryan flinching away in fear because of him didn’t settle well in the pit of his stomach; he should have known that he wouldn't accept Shane with open arms.

“You… I don’t know,” Shane rubbed his chin in thought, what _can_ they do? “Why didn’t you say anything before... about the blade?”

“I didn’t want to seem rude…” Ryan wringed his hands together, “It was unusual to see it out in the open… you scared me half to death at first, big guy.”

Shane snorted when all he wanted to do is cower in his own misery, “scared me too when I first saw it, tried to remove it on my own but I never could.”

Ryan hummed, he massaged the back of his neck and avoided eye contact with Shane. “As your… husband, does that mean I can remove it?”

I’ll die if you do.

Shane parted his lips, watching Ryan sheepishly and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He promised, he promised that he’d tell them immediately to die quicker.

Don’t get attached, _don’t get attached._

“Does that mean we have to get married?” Ryan suddenly questioned, eyes wide, “oh shit, does that mean we share a bank account? Do taxes _together_?”

“What?” Shane raised his eyebrow, “No, no, we don’t have to get married. It just means that all of this,” he waved his hand, gestured all of his body, “is all yours, baby.”

“Do you have the receipt?” Ryan joked, keeping himself from laughing at the inauthentic grief on Shane’s face.

“Ouch, Ryan.”

Ryan cackled, all smiles directed at Shane. It sends a jolt of guilt through him, seeing as their situation isn’t exhilarating in the slightest. He smiled at him though, entertaining him for as long as he can until he told him the truth.

“Then,” Ryan began, then groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, “would you stay? You wouldn’t have the heart to leave me.”

Shane looked down at Ryan, glowering at his unkempt scarf. He reached out, fingers touched the red treads before he’s grabbing at it and unwrapping it from Ryan’s neck. He couldn’t help himself and soon enough he’s wrapping it around Ryan’s neck until his mouth is concealed, until every part of him is warm. What would Ryan do without him? Conceivably, freeze to death.

“Yeah,” Shane breathed, his fingers hardly touching Ryan’s scarf now, letting it fall through his palm impulsively. “I’m going to stay. But don’t assume it’s only for you!” He grinned when Ryan closed his mouth. “I’ve grown to love Los Angeles.”

“Right,” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “It rains all the damn time, everybody is annoyingly loud and some _asshole_ follows you around constantly.”

“How do you know that’s not what I like?” Shane teased, before looking around his porch. The rain he had accidently caused minutes prior from Ryan’s confession disappeared, nothing but a few droplets fall from his roof and the aroma of damp humidity. “It’s not raining.”

Ryan looked too, turning around and walking over to the columns of Shane’s porch. “But… but it was!”

Shane gave him a half shrug, “it comes and goes.”

Ryan bobbed his head, he narrowed his eyes at Shane suspiciously. “Are you responsible for the rain?”

“Am I—” Shane gaped, “how _dare_ you accuse me of—”

“It’s been you the whole time!” Ryan threw his hands in the air, “you’re responsible for the rain! Do you have _any_ idea of the many colds I’ve had? Listen buddy, could you keep it down a notch?! Everybody has work and school to attend!”

_Is he threatening me? Is he scolding me? I'm a deity!_ Shane thought, he held his hands up in defense just in case Ryan would plummet him to the ground.

“Alright, _alright_!” He surrendered, moved away from Ryan’s prying fingers poking at him. “I’ll stop doing it!”

“And!”

“ _And_?”

“And… you and I would continue to be friends,” Ryan declared, keeping his chin up high to stare at Shane. _Stupidly brave._

“Threatening a deity would get you in trouble, little guy,” Shane said instead, furrowing his eyebrows. “Didn’t anybody tell you that?”

“Who says I'm threatening you? Listen, you and I, we don’t have to, uh—" Ryan pursed his lips, hiding his reddened face in his equally red scarf. _You match with it,_ Shane wanted to taunt but held his tongue.

Smirking, Shane leaned down to get a closer look at Ryan’s face, “do what?”

“Date. We don’t need to be in a committed relationship. I’ll help you with the blade, you and I stay friends. Marriage is overrated anyway, don’t you think?” Ryan shook his head and extended his arm to Shane, unclenched his hand to show his palm, “friends?”

_No. No. No. No. Say no._

Shane nodded and rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah,” he repeated, sighed and took Ryan’s hand in his. His hand is warmer, like the feeling bubbling in Shane’s chest. It could be guilt or denial. Which ever it is, it could _fuck_ off.

He kept his eyes on Ryan as he removed his hand from Shane’s and walked over to the porch stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Uh,” Ryan shifted his eyes somewhere else, trying to come up with an excuse at the top of his head, “home? You said that you’re not leaving so…”

Something in Shane doesn’t find comfort in that, to let Ryan walk alone at night. The incident last night reappeared in his head and Ryan’s prominent scab on his forehead hasn’t healed. He saw his neighborhood, though Ryan knew Los Angeles left and right; Shane doesn’t want him to leave alone. Not at night, at least.

“Let me walk with you,” Shane offered without a second thought, jogging over to his side. “We have lots to talk about after all.”

And they do, the walk from his house to Ryan’s was further than expected. They both knew that and Shane didn't let it bother him. Talking to Ryan was… fascinating, enjoyable almost.

Shane hadn’t thought about the way he’d missed hearing his voice or staring at him since they had stopped talking to each other days ago. Just like in New Orleans, when Ryan would sit and _stare_ at every light, every building, every person around him.

He didn’t think anything about it, Ryan’s such an easy person to have a conversation with. So impossibly easy that he told him about the time he lived in Italy.

“You lived in Italy, too?” Ryan inquired, stepping on the wet pavement. “Aren’t you an adventurous one.”

“I’ve been to many, _many_ places than I would love to admit.” Shane shrugged, blowing out his cheeks. They’re close to Ryan’s house now, he can see the sign they’re about to pass with the street name. “Living for centuries does that to you.”

“You couldn’t be that old,” Ryan beamed, and pushed his shoulder to press against Shane’s. The sound of their footsteps mixed together in the empty street, it was only them now, under the moonlight and humidity that left the both of them stickier than before. Shane wouldn’t have it any other way. “How old are you?”

_Ah, the million dollar question._

“One thousand and forty nine years old.”

Ryan whistled, “that’s…”

“Almost to the big ol’ fifty!”

Ryan laughed, a sound that breached Shane’s ears and yet, left him smiling back at him boastfully. Ryan’s laughter died out as they continued to walk in silence. It’s not until they passed the crosswalk together, Ryan blurted out: “What was _Leonardo Da Vinci_ like?”

Shane guffawed, he looked heavenward. What _was_ he like? It’s been centuries since he’s seen that spiteful man and his oil stained hands. “Artistic.”

“You’re hilarious,” Ryan confessed sarcastically though, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“He was mean to me,” Shane remembered Da Vinci inviting him to his rundown home and insulted Shane for _hours_ before he tried to offer either coffee or a maiden to him.

Rough times for the guy, he even tried to talk him into drinking every night. (He bit back a chuckle, it _worked_ but Shane hated every second of it and the scotch that burned his throat after.)

“He told me that he would paint something so terrible, so outrageously horrific and gift it to me personally,” he bragged and looked over to Ryan and his glossy eyes, he stared at Shane. “He said that I couldn’t throw it away or the love of my life would die.”

Ryan laughed then, piercing his eardrums and those trying to sleep too, his laughter subsided to giggles after, holding his stomach as he walked. “That’s _stupid_. What a guy, what did he give you?”

“Mona Lisa,” Shane answered, laughing along too. “And I lost it years later.” That made Ryan laugh louder, his voice echoing around his neighborhood, blending with a dog’s bark in the distance.

Shane couldn’t keep his eyes off him, watching him enjoy a zany story from his pathetic life with pathetic gifts was something to treasure. He searched for the one to end his life and here he was, delighted to listen to Shane’s stories.

“I’ll tell you more,” Shane promised by Ryan’s doorstep as quietly as he could. He didn’t want Ryan’s aunt to wake up and call the police on him. “When I see you I’ll tell you about Johnny Appleseed and how he almost took my land away from me.”

“That long ago, huh?” Ryan nodded, “I’m looking forward to it.” They stay there, eyes locked and breathless from giggling like children in the street.

It was surreal, almost as a fantasy to Shane. He was still bracing himself to wake up in his bed with a fever, with Steven’s hand on his forehead and telling him that he was having a nightmare; that Ryan Bergara wasn’t real, that he dreamt him all this time because it’s that delusional that God would bestow him a gift. But now, Shane was looking at the man he’s searched the universe for and he didn’t want to leave.

“I… uh,” Ryan nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I… one more question before you go?”

Shane raised his eyebrow, “no, Ryan we’re not getting married.”

“It’s _not—_ It’s not that!” Ryan flushed red and dismissed Shane’s statement. “The blade, Shane. What happens when I remove it from your chest?”

Oh. Shane narrowed his eyes, _I’ll die in your arms and then turn to ash. I’ve seen it happen, I’ve dreamt it and now here you are. And I don’t… I don’t want to die and hurt you—_

“I’ll turn pretty,” He replied, pushing away the raw ache biting from his chest and instead turned his attention to Ryan’s chuckle. Strangely enough, it worked and the agony faded away little by little to the sound of Ryan’s voice. “You remove the blade and I turn into a pretty goblin.”

“Ah…” Ryan smiled widely, “I can do that! I’ll remove it and make sure you’re pretty.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Shane lied through his teeth, “you wouldn’t be scared seeing me anymore.”

Ryan nodded, wrapping his hand to the door knob. “It’s a deal, goodnight Shane.” He whispered, opening the door and waved at Shane before he closed it gently.

_You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot, you’re an idiot. You’re getting attached, you’re getting attached. He would never love you, tell him the truth and die! Die. Die._

“Goodnight, Ryan,” Shane breathed out.

And for the first time, he felt like he _can_ breathe and the pain doesn’t return to him on his way back home or when he’s lying on his bed alone. He thought of Ryan throughout the night up until he woke up and wondered what’s he’s doing and how much sleep he’s getting; if he’s happy, how Shane could keep him happy, how his face lit up when Shane _does_ make him happy.

 

And for the first time in decades, the sun comes out in Los Angeles.

 

* * *

 

Ryan walked out through the campus doors before anybody else. Ecstatic, he looked at the time on his phone and rushed over to his house as a free man from finals. He was actually feeling pretty good about how it went, smooth, he’d say. And he’s grateful that it’s all over so he’ll sit around, work and relax as his reward.

It’s been a few days since he’s talked to Shane and a few days since he’s worked a full shift. Everyone at work (Kelsey and Steven) teamed up on him and _forced_ him to take days off in order to study for his exams.

And hey, it was needed for sure but he had already missed talking to his coworkers and serving orders to customers he’s become familiar with. He was promised that he’d return tomorrow and early in the morning until Steven kicks him out.

He spent his afternoon at home, sluggishly doing chores with his cousins and staying away from his aunt as much as possible. They never mentioned Ryan’s job since the incident a week ago, in fact, he never told her what happened and how he had gotten the scar on his forehead.

(She wouldn’t care either way, she’d told him to stop being clumsy so that he wouldn’t get another scar.) But one thing was certain, if Ryan’s aunt found his paycheck, he wouldn’t let her have it.

“There you go,” Ryan smiled, he whirled around from the kitchen counter to hand his cousin his lunch bag. “Last day before Christmas vacation, you excited?”

“Thrilled,” his younger cousin sarcastically answered, smiling at Ryan. “Are you going to work today?” He mumbled over the scarf Ryan wrapped around him, he pulled it down for a second before Ryan is fixing it for him again.

“Yeah, today’s my first day back,” Ryan replied, “I’ll walk with you to the bus stop and then I’ll head over there.”

Ryan’s been walking his cousins to their bus stop for years now, even when they had been children attending middle school for the first time and were too embarrassed to be seen with an adult escorting them. He always feared for them, their mother never had the time (or made time) to take and pick them up from school. He decided that he’d walk with them just in case they needed someone for them.

“What do you want for Christmas, Ryan?” His cousin asked, sauntering beside Ryan.

“Hmm…” Ryan pretended to think it over and gave him a half shrug. _What does he want for Christmas?_ “I haven’t thought about it, a backpack would be nice…”

“Ma says we can’t give him anything this year,” his other cousin pointed out cooly, shrugging off his jacket. “It’s hot today, maybe you should take off your scarf.”

His aunt did it again, asking her children to avoid him during the holidays wasn’t anything new and Ryan didn’t let it bother him. He gave his cousins presents in secret or before the big day despite the harsh rule placed on them, it was tradition now. He’s stopped giving one to his aunt when he found the presents he gave her unopened in a supply closet. But when it came to his cousins, he’d always scrape up as much money as he could to buy them something they'd asked Ryan for.

“You’re brother’s right,” Ryan added, after he stood outside long enough to test the warmer air of L.A, “take your scarf off and give it to me. If it rains later you can put your jacket on,” Ryan suggested, taking his cousins scarf and helping him out with his backpack.

“I doubt it’ll rain this time,” his cousin chuckled, “it hasn’t rained all week. Sorry, you always bundle me up and I always have to take it off...”

“And I always take it home,” Ryan smiled, he watched as the school bus made its way steadily towards them, parking alongside Ryan and his cousins. “Make sure your brother eats, don’t fall asleep in class today.”

“You’re falling asleep in class?” His cousin popped his gum loudly, looking down at his younger brother with furrowed eyebrows. He shook his head and took his brother by his arm wittily. “Come on man, we’ll be late.”

Ryan watched as they walked inside the bus, waving at them distantly before turning around to the direction of his house. Ryan saw his cousin look at him through the window until the bus made a right turn into another neighborhood and took that as his sign to leave.

He did nothing for another hour before he’s scheduled to leave, neatly hanging his cousin’s scarf in his closet, taking a shower, cleaning up his room. He’s bored out of his mind and left twenty minutes after nine.

Kelsey’s there when he arrived, greeting him with an enthusiastic _Ryan!_ And a hug that he definitely needed.

“How was finals?”

“Good, I'm tired _mentally_ though.”

Kelsey cooed, pinching Ryan’s cheeks and cradling them in her hands. “I won’t overwork you today,” she proposed, her nails digging into his skin as he jerked away from her hold.

“I’m tired myself,” she walked away, sitting down on one of the bar stools. She’s eating again, this time it’s avocado on toast, _Ryan,_ she’ll say, _it’s good for… many things but it’s always my go-to after sex breakfast_.

“After…” Ryan started, taking his apron from his bag and routinely wrapping it around his waist. “After what?”

Kelsey drew in a long breath before taking another bite of her toast. “I met a guy last night, nice guy. But _god_ , I’m so tired.” She slapped her cheeks softly, “I’m losing my touch. Somewhere, somehow I read that avocados help your sex drive.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Her words don’t register in his brain as he head over to the bar. Plates and unwashed glasses scattered inside of the sink, all of them covered in grime and dried food stains from the night before. The counter itself was worse, rottenly sticky from spilled liquor. Perfect! Something to keep him occupied for the next few hours.

“You want some?” Kelsey mumbled, crumbs fell off her mouth and chewed unwaveringly at him as she offered her toast at him.

“No, I’m good.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “have you ever had sex, Ryan?”

“Uh, not really.”

“Not even with that handsome man you were talking about before? I was sure that you both had... you know…” She made a popping sound with her mouth, “fucked.”

Ryan dropped the plate into the hot water, “ _no, no_ , it’s not like that. I never thought about having sex with him.”

“Yet.”

“ _Kelsey_!”

“Okay, okay, innocent love,” Kelsey surrendered, raising her hands. “It’s cute, your entire face is red.”

Ryan rubbed his forearm against his cheek, feeling it’s warmth against his skin. Why would she put such images in his head? He barely got back to talking terms with Shane, he wasn’t allowed to think about having _sex_ with him. That was… that was _lewd_ and he honestly felt guilty of thinking that way.

“Have you talked to him?”

“Yeah I have,” Ryan said, ignoring his flushed cheeks and raised his head over at Kelsey. “Yeah, we’re talking now. I haven’t… spoken to him in a week, though. But, I found out that we’re _—_ ”

(Is there another word used for soulmates who are engaged because Shane is a cursed thousand year old deity? Ryan hates how he’s the first to figure it out.)

“—compatible.”

“Isn’t that sweet. Are you going to ask him out?”

“I don’t…” he blew out his cheeks, “I don’t think I like him that way. I think of us as friends right now.”

And it’s true. Keeping an open mind about their unofficial engagement and how he’s the one to help Shane from his curse of being appallingly ugly forever by removing the blade was better than them heading straight to dating. He truthfully could say that he didn’t want Shane to feel like he’s forced in a relationship he doesn’t want and neither does he. It’s better that way, for the both of them.

Kelsey’s eyes widened, tapping her nail on the counter. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah?” Ryan responded, raising his eyebrow and tossed the washed plate to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been going on and _on_ about this guy and you’re not even going to have sex with him?”

“Kelsey,” Ryan warned, pleased when Kelsey stiffened from the sound of his voice alone. “Not everything revolves around sex, I don’t want to have sex with him. I just want to be his friend.”

“You’re right,” Kelsey agreed, “is it possible to meet this guy? Talk to him, you know?”

Ryan looked up from the sink, “I guess, yeah. I don’t know if he’ll like the idea but I could try to ask him.”

“Great!” She rose from her seat, standing on her toes. “We’re having a New Years Eve party here, we’re all going to be there and you _have_ to invite him.”

“Oh, he’s…” Ryan began, _would Shane bother?_ If Ryan asked him to and if he’d convince him enough, maybe he’d succumb to his invitation and attend it too. “I could try? It wouldn’t hurt to ask him right?”

Kelsey beamed, then fiddled with her phone, “don’t worry about me, I won’t try to sweet talk him.”

“Oh I wasn’t worried—”

“I’m a faithful girl, I wouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Technically, he doesn’t belong to anybody either, just himself but—”

“Kelsey,” Ryan propped his chin on his hand, his elbow on the marble counter. “It’ll be a miracle if you can get him to talk to you.”

Kelsey scoffed, exaggeratingly failing her arms around. “He’s one of _those_. He’s the one person type! Monogamy! I’m calling it now, you’ll invite him and he’ll stick to you like glue. Extra points if he stares at you all night.”

“Please don’t bet on my friend and I.”

“I’ll get Steven to rally up votes,” Kelsey pivoted away, her voice faded away as she walked into the storage room. “And you’ll _bet_ your ass I’ll win. Make him fall in love with you, I’m going to need those fifty bucks.”

 

* * *

 

The park where Ryan first saw Shane was his favorite place to pass the time. Every single one of his greatest ideas came to him there, right on the bench he sat in. And as the season changed, winter hurriedly made its way in L.A and the park’s trees had _almost_ lost most of their vivid leaves.

He couldn’t pretend that it had been that long since Ryan met Shane, the trees looked the same to him anyway but there was something about the way the sun’s rays roamed effortlessly through the tree’s branches that had Ryan thrilled for the holiday season.

Which could explain why he was here now.

Kelsey let him go right before three in the afternoon, leaving him to grab lunch and recollect his thoughts on his own. Being away from school was liberating, sleeping in and watching Christmas movies all morning was the way he wanted to spend the next few weeks.

He’d even started to think about his cousin’s presents and his traditional one for his mother. (Even if his aunt didn’t necessarily include him in any holiday, he’d celebrate it the way his mother and child Ryan did.)

His mother had told him that presents weren’t necessary for a holiday that revolved around celebrating with friends and family. He agreed with her, they had been in the bottom of the pyramid in terms of money and she would miss a Christmas present for him a year or two. It didn’t matter, he was making it up for her himself.

Ryan’s eyes watched a leaf falling from the tree, flowing suavely along with a couple walking past him. He reached inside of his pocket and took out the zippo lighter that he decided to keep.

Calling (or summoning) Shane was always the hardest part for Ryan, he never really knew what was a dream or not these days and he was afraid that he would one day wake up to find himself alone. Hopefully what had happened the night Ryan told him about the sword _wasn’t_ a dream or else calling for Shane would be awkward.

They haven’t spoken since, neither had thought about exchanging numbers at the time but Ryan knew that Shane isn’t avoiding him anymore. It’s a relief at most, but _how_ could have they forgotten to give each other their phone numbers?

(If it weren’t for Maycie to remind him that they did not have any other way of casual contact; he would be constantly call him by flame if he wanted to talk about the wonders of the Roaring 20’s.)

“Are you really going to invite him?”

Ryan turned his head, Jen’s leaning on the bench with a smile, her arms crossed across her chest and jerked her chin in the direction of the zippo lighter.

“I… I guess I am?” He looked back to the zippo lighter, his thumb brushed on the metal surface. “Not sure how I’ll ask him. Should I be straightforward?”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” She wondered, needlessly bounced to his side and sitting down closely to him. “I’m sure he’ll say yes, he _is_ your husband after all. It wouldn’t be polite to leave your significant other by himself on New Years Eve.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being friends, Jen.”

“Being friends with your _fiancé_.”

Ryan huffed and shook his head with a smile. “What’s with my friends and ghostly companions never indulging in the acts of platonic relationships?”

Jen dismissed him with a wave of her hand, “hey man, you’re right, they exist. You could marry platonically too, I once had this friend who—”

Ryan interrupted Jen by flicking open the zippo lighter lid and turning it on. Tense, Jen jumped to her feet and away from the flame in Ryan’s hand, clutched her chest with her invisible hand. “Don’t scare me like _that!_ At least warn me before sending him here!”

“What?” Ryan giggled, tauntingly swinging the lighter around. “Are you scared of him?”

“No, _no!_ ” Jen shrieked as Ryan inhaled. “Okay, _yes,_ I am. I’m leaving before he tears me to shreds, make sure to ask him nicely! Don’t pressure him! He’ll make it hail if you do!”

Ryan doesn’t wait until Jen is gone when he’s extinguishing the flame himself due to his thumb cramping under his hold. When he’s putting the lighter away, he felt somebody’s presence next to him. He whirled back around and grinned at the perplexed man in front of him.

Shane… looks well, freshly shaven, rustled hair that fell into his eyes and formal clothes that could rival any other businessman in the country. His eyes blinked excessively for a few seconds before focusing on Ryan.

“Why—” Shane cleared his throat, raising his hand at Ryan as if to make a sell a pitch to him. “ _We_ have phones.”

“ _We_ didn’t exchange numbers,” Ryan quipped, he rose from the bench and adjusted his denim jacket. “I’ve got a question for you. How do you feel about parties?”

“Haven’t been one since ‘83—wait a minute, don’t change the topic,” Shane fidgeted and jammed his hands into his fancy black pant pockets. “I was at _work_ , I thought I told you that I have a job and if I hadn’t heard you speaking, I would have been in big trouble with my boss as to explaining why I disappeared into mid-air.”

“Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt,” Ryan teased, then bit his lip. “Sorry about that, again, we didn’t—”

“Exchange numbers, yeah, yeah,” Shane took one hand out of his pocket and held his phone over to Ryan. “Save your number on my phone and call yourself, that way,” he paused, loomed closer to Ryan, “you could _call_ or _text_ me anytime. Wonders of technology, really, it’s wonderful, great, please do this so I can go back to work.”

Ryan does as he’s told as Shane rambled. He learned to block him out and discreetly judged the way Shane’s phone is so _boring_ and had an interest with default settings as if he bought it yesterday. He’s in the process of calling himself when Shane hooked his fingers around his phone.

“Have you really never been to a party since 1983?”

“Who said it was 1983? Try 1483, the Spanish Inquisition lasted years Ryan, now that’s a kick ass party,” Shane played with his cell phone, “now if you’ll excuse—”

“You don’t mind to attend a party now? This year, in newer times where there _isn’t_ a Spanish Inquisition?”

Shane clicked his tongue, “I don’t know, can’t rival that kick ass joint. What’s this all about?”

"Parties."

Shane raised his eyebrow and squared his shoulders, “did you really summon me at…” He took a look around, taking in the atmosphere of the vacant park and fallen leaves around them and averted his eyes back to Ryan, “at the park to ask me about parties?”

“Yes…” Ryan uttered out nervously, “answer the question, goblin.”

“Ouch, Bergara,” Shane winced, no ill will towards Ryan behind his words, “that smarts, couldn’t you ask politely?”

“You would leave if I took too long, come to a New Years party with me.”

“Ryan, _I’m working_.”

“And I’m asking,” Ryan grinned, sweetly tilting his head at Shane as a way to convince him further. It doesn’t work. “Please? I know that you detest parties so—”

Shane scoffed, “there isn’t any evidence that indicates that I _loathe_ parties.”

“You haven’t been to one since the Spanish Inquisition,” Ryan addressed, “you said so yourself.”

“Using my own words against me and _I’m_ the one with the curse.”

“Is that a yes?”

Shane sighed noisily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, Ryan. I’m not exactly a man of crowds.”

“Do you think I would be asking you if I was?”

Shane cocked his head, his eyes narrowed at him. For a moment, he’s looking around him puzzlingly and turning back to Ryan. “Are you alone?”

Taken by surprise, Ryan hummed and looked around him too. The sun high in the sky, shining across the endless trees, leaves left fallen on the cobblestone and people heading back home or to work after their lunch breaks. Yes, one could say that he was alone.

“Yes, I am.” Ryan thought out loud, “you’re avoiding the question again.”

“Not avoiding, speculating,” Shane squinted his eyes at Ryan suspiciously. “I’ll tell you what I think about your question if you answer mine.”

“I hardly think that’s fair—”

“Who were you talking to just now?” Shane urged, his voice laced with nosiness. If nobody told Ryan, he would be convinced that Shane loved to play games with whoever he talked to. Dramatically using every opportunity by teasing and driving Ryan insane with a grin or _that_ look in his eye. And _he_ was the one scrambling to get back to work.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryan lied, shrugging his shoulders knowingly.

“‘ _What? Are you scared of him_?’” Shane recollected, a complete repetition of the first time he spoke to Ryan. “Was that you, or do I need to say more?”

A part of Ryan thought that it’s endearing that Shane remembered what he told him the first time they met and used it against him, considering that it made Ryan’s little old heart flutter.

Another part of Ryan mischievously grinned, thinking of a lie to get him out of explaining the fact that he can see and talk to dead people to a deity, one that despised ghosts. Though, the fact that Shane try and make him believe that he was on his side was _also_ endearing and Ryan’s heart kept on flying out of his chest with its wings.

“Guess we’re somehow married now,” Ryan shrugged, ignoring Shane rolling his eyes. “I see ghosts and I talk to them, I was talking to one of them before you got here, let me tell you, they’re not very fond of you.”

“Likewise,” Is all Shane said, until, “you see _what_ now?”

“Ghosts,” Ryan drawled out as if he were talking to a younger kid. A child and Shane in comparison were equal, both exhausting, carried on old jokes onto the present and shun intellectual questions like the flu. “I can see and talk to ghosts.”

“Ryan, _Ryan,_ sweetie—”

“Don’t call me that—”

“You can’t possibly make me believe that you see, much less _speak_ to the dead,” Shane took a seat on the bench Ryan was on, and swung his leg over the other, “There’s no such thing, you’re speaking to air.”

“You—oh, my god, you’re _serious_!” Ryan clapped his hands, laughing half of his lung off. “You’re a deity! How could you not believe that I see them?”

“Them? It’s a myth! There’s no such thing,” Shane blinked innocently, leaning forward until he’s face to face with Ryan’s stomach. (Even as he’s sitting, he’s enormously tall.) “Deities are magical. Ghosts? Floating pieces of shit—”

“You just acknowledged them—”

“Who are not real, mind you. I don’t want to get scientific but my resurrection is far most believable than uh,” Shane snorted, running his hand over his nose and smiled at Ryan, “a dead person running around talking to you.”

Ryan bit back his argument, keeping himself from bursting out in anger in front of Shane just to give him the satisfaction. “Well, you should know, they’re always following you around like a moth to a flame. They even told me that you’re the one that sends them to protect me, how could you—”

Shane stood up from his seat suddenly, appearing right in front of Ryan. Recognition dawned on him as his eyebrows furrowed, and he pressed his lips together as he tried to comprehend what’s been said to him.

“You’re…” Shane licked his lips, “you’re not serious, you weren’t being serious.”

Ryan anxiously chuckled, wringed his fingers together and Shane took it as a sign that he is _not_ playing around and was one-hundred percent serious. In an instant, Shane ran his fingers through his hair and stared at Ryan with a profound frown.

This took a turn for the worst when Ryan himself realized that Shane believed he was playing with him; in other words, he thought Ryan was doing a _bit_ and he was playing along.

“Oh, no—no,” Ryan protested, stammering as he explained himself, “it’s not—it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“Is it?” Shane accused, “you weren’t making fun of me, you… you honestly see them?”

“And speak with them,” Ryan chimed in, sitting back down on the bench, yet in a split second Shane is pulling him up by his elbow. It isn’t invasive, his touch is gentle, he’s keeping Ryan closer to him and forcing him to keep eye contact. It must be serious to Shane then and Ryan has no choice as a pretend husband to comply to his needs.

Ryan dealt with it for decades, since he was a baby in his crib looking at people coo at him and showing him toys that he’s never seen before. It was then when he was older and asked his mother about them, (when she looked at him strangely and told him that nobody came to visit him other than Auntie) it was when he knew that he was different.

“Ryan—”

“It’s not a big deal!” Ryan cut him off, taking his arm away from him slowly. “I got used to it though, it’s kind of irritating to find out that nobody _can_ see them and have no means to prove it.”

Shane let him pull away from him and sighed, “when did it begin?”

“I was a baby when it first happened,” Ryan explained, “basically my entire life and my… my mom, she uh, knew about it too but kept me as far away from it as much as she could.”

Ryan’s mother was the only one that knew. She would hide him away from ghosts that he did not want to see and the ones that scared him the most. Though, she believed that it was because he was a miracle and that it’s a gift from the angel who saved them; he thought otherwise.

It’s no gift to see people that he’s seen or that he’s known live their eternity among humans instead to be laid to rest. It wasn’t fair to them and Ryan was the centerfold, he couldn’t help them move on.

Shane’s silent for a minute, his mouth in a thin line and staring at Ryan with a puzzled expression. Ryan taught himself that when Shane does this, he’s either overthinking or thinking of the right words he’ll say to Ryan.

(The various times that happened, he told Ryan to basically fuck off forever.)

So, he starts talking. “Her name’s Jen,” but it wasn’t what he _exactly_ wanted to say. “Sometimes Maycie,” he added in, rubbing salt onto the wound. Ryan bowed his head to stare at his sneakers, “they’re very, very nice to me. They’re the ones who told me about you and… they’re so kind and listen to me—”

“Do any of them hurt you?”

“Huh?” Ryan looked up, Shane’s looking at him with an inquisitive raised eyebrow. “No?”

“None of them had tried to hurt you?”

“No, they can’t…” Ryan drew in a breath, regretful for telling Shane about this. “They can’t touch me.”

Shane nodded, though he’s nonchalant about it, Ryan sensed the tension between them slip away. “Yeah, I know those two.”

He’s referring to Jen and Maycie. “I’m sure you do.”

“They’re always around my house. They don’t do anything… neither do I,” Shane smiled slightly, “I don’t do autographs anymore.”

With a laugh, Ryan softly hit Shane in the arm, trying to contribute on pushing that tension to the back of their minds. “You’re an idiot, scaring me like that! I thought you were about to strangle me for telling you.”

“Nah,” Shane smiled wider, lifting his shoulder in a half shrug. “Would of mangled them? Maybe.”

“You shouldn’t threatened them, they’re _nice_.”

“When they want to be, yeah,” Shane admitted, “did you know that humans believed opium could make you hallucinate and _see_ dead people?”

Ryan knew why Shane changed the topic, he’d turn it back around into something that he’d done or seen centuries ago. The night Ryan told him about the sword, he mentioned the truth behind his time in New Orleans _and_ living through the Renaissance in almost every artist’s home; but never had he told him how the sword got there in the first place.

(Obviously, he was stabbed.)

Shane told him that he’d turn pretty if he removed it, he had assumed an artist had done it. Maybe, they tried a new way of sculptured art that had turned deadly. Fortunate for them, (and Shane) he didn't die.

“Really?” Ryan comtemplented amusedly, “are you saying I’m an opium addict?”

“Not _you_ , an Emperor long ago was. Crazy shit, I’ll tell you all about it over a sandwich, come on.”

“Thought you had to work?” Ryan took his bag from the bench and skipped over to Shane walking away. “Were you lying to me?”

“Wasn’t lying to you, I was at work,” Shane jammed his hands into his front pockets, “how could you think I would leave you after dropping news like that? You’d be out of your mind, are you hungry? Do you like avocado?”

Ryan paused suddenly and gaped at Shane as he turned around too. His eyebrows rose and gave him a lopsided grin, “you okay?”

“Y—yeah! Let’s skip the avocados okay?”

Shrugging, Shane continued walking, one of his free hands lingered over to Ryan’s wrist. His fingers accidentally brushed against his skin; Ryan took it as a way to comfort him. He’s thankful but the last thing he needs now is for Shane to touch him as he thought about Kelsey’s comment of avocados and sex.

“It’s a myth,” Shane’s voice echoed, “avocados don’t do shit for your sex drive.”

Ryan nearly tripped over his own feet.

They don’t have avocados where Shane took them. However, they had countless combinations of sandwiches that Ryan couldn’t believe existed and couldn’t decide on which one looked _more_ appetizing than the other. It took him an hour to figure out his choice of bread and another twenty minutes sampling his cheese of choice.

Shane told him that he didn’t mind, he encouraged it. He didn’t mention heading back to work again instead, he’d call his boss with the poor excuse that it had been a family emergency and had to leave; then told Ryan realistically, if he had the chance, he’d tell them that _my husband couldn’t choose what cheese to eat._

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan mumbled, chewing on his third sample of salami. He pointed to the meat tins on the other side of the counter with his toothpick, “couldn’t we just eat all the samples? I don’t have any money to pay for an actual sandwich.”

“That’s not a balanced meal, hubby,” Shane joked, jerking away from Ryan when he began to stab him with his toothpick. “Pick whatever you want, I’ll pay for it.”

“Wait, no—”

“I don’t mind. You have to eat.”

Ryan hesitated before Shane’s ordering for himself and Ryan. It takes _another_ ten minutes fighting at the register as to how they’ll split the bill.

(Ryan reluctantly let Shane pay for most of it but he had gotten his share and tipped the people behind the counter who gave him those delicious samples.)

As they ate, Shane told him about opium. During his time in Japan, he’d become an ambassador to the Emperor by mistake, yet, he left that as his fate for the next fifty years before he’d fake his death and leave.

He explained to Ryan that he’d been told by said Emperor that opium gave you magical abilities, one could gain abnormal eye sight and immortality.

(“I was already immortal,” Shane said, tossing his lettuce to the side.

“Couldn’t tell him that, huh?”

“No,” he laughed, “I couldn’t.")

“He was a real shitty person,” Shane commented when they’re walking alongside now back in the direction of the park. The sun had begun to set, the rosy glow surrounds the horizon and Ryan’s head was filled with stories of Shane’s past in every country he’s visited.

“Who wasn’t back then?”

Shane hummed in agreement, “he was still so _shitty_. Don’t get offended or anything but his wife told me that she loved me. What did I do?”

Ryan gasped, “you didn’t, dude!”

“No! No! I _didn’t_!” Shane reassured Ryan, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t do _that_ , I told her that I was dead and couldn’t fulfill the role of a loving husband as a corpse.”

“You’re evil, what did she do?”

“She had me executed,” Shane spoke, albeit nonchalantly for a man sentenced to death.

He shrugged his shoulder as if to say _it’s not a big deal, it happens all the time_. Perhaps he expected Ryan to hold his breath in horror because he appeared to be taken back when Ryan giggled and smiled at him. “I left beforehand and my head's still intact!”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I don’t think you heard me right,” Shane pointed to his head, “my head is _still_ intact! Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time fleeing the country, this wasn’t any different.”

They step on dead leaves scattered on the pavement, a variety of colors from brown to orange crunched beneath their shoes. Afternoons in Los Angeles were Ryan’s favorite time of the day. Most of the time he’d spend it at home, studying or avoiding his aunt locked in his room. Yet, it never stopped him from opening his window in the afternoon and talked to Jen about nothing in particular.

“The sun's out,” Ryan retorted instead, taking in the breathtaking view of the sun setting into the sky. A faint glow of pink and purple upon the horizon alongside the smaller dispersed clouds in the sky. It’s been quite a long time since he’s seen a sunset, while most of the time it had rained an entire day. “You did what I told you, I haven’t seen the sun in months.”

Shane doesn’t answer to him but from the corner of his eye, Shane’s mouth curled into a soft smile. And, if you squint, you can see his reddened ears hidden by his hair. “I love the rain, what can you say? He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the direction of the sun set and it’s radiant glow. “When you love something, it’s hard to give it away.”

“It’s a bad habit.”

“Not when it helps.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Ryan told him, running over in front of Shane and stopping their stroll. “Is the rain symbolistic for something?”

“Why do you always ask questions, little guy?”

“Could you stop the terms of endearment for a moment?”

“Sorry, Ryan,” Shane apologized but he doesn’t sound to be sorry at all. “We all don’t have a tragic backstory, it’s as true as it gets. I love the rain.” He finished with a glare directed at Ryan, a sign to _stop asking questions and stop butting in_.

Ryan took the hint and shut his mouth, there’s only so much you could ask a deity, nonetheless a man as old as Shane. He believed it to be a character he’s destined to unlock soon enough. But this wasn’t a game and Shane was a human being. If he didn't want to share it with Ryan, he had no reason to pry and leave it be.

“Tell me more about Australia.”

“Ryan, I think—I think I should just go home,” Shane rubbed his forehead, looking down at Ryan with a frown. “I’d love to sit down for a while before working at home.”

Ryan doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t want their evening to end. “Oh, yeah—right! I should be heading home too, you know, my, uh—” Ryan trailed off, realizing that he’s got nothing to do at home other than sit around or clean. _A boring life you have_ , he heard Jen tell him.

“Ryan—”

“I gotta clean! And wash my uniform for tomorrow, Christmas is soon, so—”

“ _Ryan_ ,” The sound of Shane laughing cut him off, his eyes squinted as he laughed. Oh, no. He’s messing with him. “Have you ever seen Moulin Rouge?”

“Moulin who?”

Shane laughed again, then held his arm out for Ryan. “Come on, little guy. Let me introduce you to Ewan.”

Ryan gaped at Shane’s arm before walking over to him. He squeezed himself to his side as they walk towards Shane’s house. “I hope I didn’t guilt trip you.”

“You did,” Shane insisted, “but you’re my husband, I’m supposed to invite you home.”

_Home_. The word that Ryan has associated his rundown bedroom to, a word that he’s called Tasty since he’s first worked there, a word that he never thought about calling someone since his mother passed away. Happily, Ryan follows Shane back home.

 

* * *

 

“And here I thought gold didn’t have anything to do with goblins,” Ryan in awe, mused, his eyes scanned every inch of Shane’s mansion, if he could cover _everything_.

The moment he walked through the door, he was greeted by a glow of gold and white, his house modernized yet held a vintage atmosphere to it. The house’s walls held paintings upon paintings that Ryan wouldn’t have known about unless he’s seen it in his college textbooks or told by Shane himself.

Needless to say, it was certainly a mansion. Ryan began to walk further inside of Shane’s home, taking in the comfortable warmth that radiated through the living room. Velvet couches arranged perfectly, decorated by expensive-looking accents and throw pillows. Not to mention the enormous kitchen he’d stumbled into, stunning pristine shelves and marble countertops were enough to make somebody else envious just by taking a peek.

“Hey now, I’m not one to gloat,” Ryan heard Shane from the living room. He turned back to see Shane taking off his blazer and unbuttoning the cuffs of his collared shirt. “I don’t have any gold.”

“It sure seems like you do,” Ryan exhaled, throwing his arms up and looking back into the living room. On the other side of the room were stairs, connecting to the second floor and to it’s balcony. “ _Wow_ , you must sleep like royalty here.”

Shane snorted, folding his sleeves up to his elbow. “You want anything, water?”

“I need…” Ryan gasped, grabbing hold of one of the couches and sat down. “I need to sit down, that’s what I need.”

“I’d be delighted to throw water on you if necessary,” Shane claimed, turning to the kitchen and leaving Ryan alone to marvel.

He nearly shrieked in surprise once he caught eye of what’s in front of him. Shane has a flat screen television! _A flat screen._ Ryan’s never seen one before in person aside from commercials on his aunt’s old television at home.

Alongside of his tv, Shane’s living room is covered in Victorian accents and older paintings. One of them he recognized, of course, _Mona Lisa_ , hanging next to the window. Ryan wrinkled his nose, he couldn’t understand how somebody would look at it long enough before throwing it away.

“I’ve been thinking about taking it down too,” Ryan whirled his head to the kitchen doorway where Shane walked out of holding two glasses of water. He set them on the coasters of his fancy, expensive table and sat next to Ryan. “I need something cheerful, something—”

“Blue?”

Shane looked at Ryan, smiling widely and taking a sip of his own water. “Something blue.”

Ryan watched Shane take a drink, as time passed, he felt awkward in such a beautiful house. Especially when he has nothing but an old denim jacket and his ripped backpack. Instead of bringing down his own mood, Ryan brought up something that he realized Shane loved to do. “How come you can read my thoughts?”

“Your thoughts are noisy.”

“That’s—”

“It’s true, don’t deny it,” Shane cut him off, leaning back on his couch and throwing his head back. He threaded his fingers through his hair, “you give me a headache whenever we’re together.”

“That’s reassuring,” Ryan replied, turning over to the dining table. It’s unnecessarily long, made of golden marble and with two distant wooden chairs on opposite ends. One for Shane and the other is probably for Steven. Candles surround the dining room, the lighting dimmer with L.A’s starry night pouring through the curtain-less windows.

Ryan stared at the room for a hot minute when he realized that Shane lifted his hand and hummed. In a blink of an eye, those candles spring to life, each of their wicks lit up with overfamiliar flames and all by Shane’s trusty hand.

“Better?”

“H—how—” Ryan spluttered out, eyes rounded and swallowing the lump in his throat as he moved back and forth from the candles to Shane’s face, “How did you _do_ that?”

“I’m magical, aren’t I?” Shane praised himself, smuggly smirking and closing his eyes, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s a neat trick I learned years ago, I’ll show it to you sometime.”

“Shut up, Shane,” suddenly relaxed, Ryan leant backwards onto Shane’s couch too, closing his eyes and embraced the warmth of Shane’s body heat.

“I could fall asleep here,” Shane whispered, Ryan opened his eyes to turn to him. He hasn’t moved from his position on the couch, looking more relaxed than Ryan’s ever seen him before. “I’ve done it countlessly. Naps here… are the best.”

Ryan hummed, “I bet it is, how can you afford this?”

“I can’t,” Shane turned to Ryan, one eye opened. “Steven can.”

Ryan chuckled, making Shane and the couch shake with the vibration of his laughter. “That’s not _even_ the slightest bit of true.” He continued to laugh and Shane opened both of his eyes, smiling.

“I work for a wealthy man,” Shane shrugged, he glanced up at the ceiling but Ryan kept his focus on Shane’s face. “He’s a businessman, specializes on gathering sponsors and attorneys for his clients, I’m just his employee who gets him those clients.”

“That’s all?”

“His company pays good money,” Shane mused, “he pays me for my job and to take care of his son.”

“Steven?”

“Mhm. He’s not the best man in terms of keeping in touch with family members,” Shane closed his eyes once more, letting his arms fall onto the couch. “He knows that Steven hates business, he doesn’t want to take care of somebody that wouldn’t take the family business. I say, fuck him, leave him to me.”

“I believed you were doing a good deed.”

“For taking in a kid?” Shane shook his head, “no, I wasn’t. I came to love Steven though, I need him more than he does.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything but stare at Shane again. So, Shane wasn’t Steven’s real uncle. He’s just a kid who had nobody to depend on except for a deity living in a mansion. Ryan wished he could relate to the last part but instead he’s stuck into knowing what it feels like to have nobody to lean on.

Sure, he has his cousins who listen and talk to him on rare occasions. But unless Ryan initiated conversation or his aunt isn’t home, he has literally zero to a few people to talk to.

(Most of them are dead.)

“Hey.”

Ryan moved his head, he had been unawarely leaning on one of the throw pillows. “Yeah?”

“About the New Years party,” Shane doesn’t move, he just opened his eyes again and looked at Ryan. “I decided that I’d love to go with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“What changed your mind?”

Shane closed his eyes and threw himself into the crease of his couch, closer to Ryan and wrapped his arms around a blue pillow. Settling himself in his couch with his work clothes, he muttered: “I never changed my mind. The answer was always yes.”

Ryan gaped, blinking at Shane’s odd posture. He’s seventy percent limbs but the way he curled into himself made him look like a child. To Ryan, it was like he wasn’t the shorter one of the two anymore, he was just staring at a man who's lived centuries. Somebody who has been cursed with a sword sticking out of him forever, kept as a reminder that no matter how long he lived, he’d always carry it with him.

Ryan saw Shane as somebody other than his taller counterpart or a deity. It was just _Shane_. Shane who paid for his sandwich and scolded him for not eating properly, Shane who laughed at all of his shitty jokes, Shane who—

Shane who fell asleep leaning on a pillow near Ryan’s shoulder. He wasn’t like a child, _he was a child_.

“Whatever happened to the movie?” Ryan mocked discreetly, narrowed his eyes at Shane’s sleeping figure curled up next to him, his hair tempting him to run his own fingers through. He gave in and does so, Shane doesn’t react and Ryan continued to keep his fingers laced with dirty brown hair. “Idiot.”

A few minutes passed and Ryan felt himself yawning too. With his fingers in Shane’s hair, he shut his eyes and tried to even out his breathing. He’s seconds away from passing out when he heard the sound of the front door opening. Startled, Ryan straightened and jerked away from Shane slowly, rubbing his hand through his face.

“Oh hey,” it’s Steven, he’s hanging taking off his shoes when he greeted Ryan. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“It was… a spur in the moment type of thing,” Ryan replied, standing up himself. “Long night?”

“Nah, the usual,” Steven confessed, scratching the back of his neck and turning to the couch. His lashes fluttered at the sight of Shane sleeping soundly on one of the pillows.

“He fell asleep again, right when I was about to ask him about the bill… Do you want me to take you home?” Steven asked Ryan, heading over to pick up his shoes again.

“Oh, no that wouldn’t be—”

“Let me walk you halfway at least,” Steven offered, “if Shane knew I left you go alone I think he’d kick me out and leave me to the dogs.”

“I… If you want to,” Ryan pivoted to Steven putting his shoes back on, grabbing his jacket and opening the door for Ryan. He took one look over to Shane sleeping before he’s outside with Steven.

“Don’t worry about it!” He exclaimed, locking the door and turning to Ryan with a smile. “So, did you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“About the party? What did he say?”

Walking past Shane’s front yard, Ryan shrugged and hid his smile. “He said he would, though—”

“He said _yes_?!” Steven hollered, closing the front gate behind them. “He said— that _bastard_ , do you know how many times I’ve tried to invite him somewhere? He’d always turn me down!” Experated, Steven threw his arms in the air and plastered a smile on his face immediately afterwards. “Guess that’s what happens when somebody pins over you for so long.”

Ryan choked on his own spit and halted to look at Steven with wide eyes. “ _What_? No, no, no that’s not—that’s not true. We’re just friends.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” Steven pointed out, raising his eyebrow.

He took Ryan’s arm and looping it with his. “I’m just telling you what has happened. Shane likes to keep to himself, I think I’m one of the few people that talks to him daily.” Looking down at Ryan with a smug grin, wiggling his eyebrows at the second he noticed his scarlet colored cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead dating bigfoot himself,” Ryan mumbled, slapping his cheeks softly.

“He wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that,” Steven said, holding back his own fit of laughter before falling back to silence.

Shane’s neighborhood was mellower than Ryan’s, each house in sight had their lights on and children had been sent inside before dark. Someone here could actually have a full night’s rest without worrying if they had locked their door or the sound of screaming children running around in their yards at night.

At night, Ryan would often walk back home from work or from (trespassing) the library by himself. It never terrified him to, he knew that Los Angeles wasn’t all harmless, just a few nights ago he was kidnapped and almost mugged by two men but before that he’d never think twice about walking alone.

“Thanks for walking me home,” Ryan spoke as soon as they’re close to the park. Streetlights illuminated the cobblestone and barren trees, there were people gathered around the park, couples or children walking around eagerly to watch the Christmas lights hanging from the trees. “Or halfway home.”

“I could walk you all the way,” Steven suggested, letting Ryan go. “I don’t mind, it’s the least I could do for making him happy.”

“Making who happy?”

“Shane?” Steven huffed, “didn’t he tell you? About the rain?”

“Oh!” Ryan nodded excitedly, “yeah! I told him to settle down, we all have things to do and the rain just… doesn’t help.”

“Right!” Steven agreed, “I knew you were good for him. Now that he isn’t sad anymore, I could see the sun everyday. You don’t _understand_ how much I’ve missed it, there were days when I was a child and—”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Ryan nervously let out a chuckle, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Steven let Ryan go slowly, “the rain? It rains when Shane is depressed. Didn’t he—” Steven shut up, eyes wide as he comes to the realization that Shane did not share _that_ with him.

“He didn’t tell you, oh, _fuck_ —”

Ryan watched as Steven ran a hand through his gray hair, he grimaced. If he wasn’t sure, Ryan would think that he’ll burst into tears any minute now. Ryan felt the same somewhat, instead of showing it, he pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the headache forming.

_There was a reason, there was a specific reason Shane avoided telling him_. Now, he screwed it up for them both.

Ryan understood, he does. How could Shane tell him that whenever he’s depressed, it starts to rain. Scratch that, how could Shane tell him that he’s sad all the damn time since Ryan had been born?

Everyday it had rained, give or take one of two days into the week but most of the time Ryan would scavenge for a new umbrella or hiding himself from the rain by holding his bag over his head.

He felt guilty too, curiously thinking as of what could cause Shane to feel this way daily. Living for centuries by yourself, moving from country to country and watching the people he’s talked and cared for die before him; that was something to be upset about. But daily? Was there something else behind the curtain that Ryan didn’t see.

_Not everybody has a tragic backstory, Ryan_.

A variation of Shane’s words to him spiral in his mind, repeating over and over again until he understood that he has to let this go and wait until Shane tells him about it himself. And if he doesn’t, by all means, he’d let it go.

Silently, Ryan lifted his hand up and comforted a distressed Steven, “don’t worry, Steven, I won’t tell him.”

“You won’t?”

“It’s not our secret to tell,” Ryan shrugged, “you should go back home now, take care of Shane and make him sleep in his own bed. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay Steven,” Ryan reassured, squeezing Steven’s arm as another effort to comfort him. “It’s between you and I, we won’t mention it.” Ryan smiled, holding himself together when the first thing he wants to do is run back to Shane’s house and tell him everything is going to be okay.

_That’s not true now is it, put yourself in his shoes_.

“Okay,” Steven gave in, relaxing somewhat with Ryan’s touch, “sleep well, Ryan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too,” Ryan replied, watching Steven turn away from him with a frown and a wave of his hand. He continued to stare as Steven jogged back with his hands in his jean pockets. He felt terrible for him, he’s one of the people Shane trusted with his whole, eternal life, it’d break his heart to know that he was the one to tell Ryan something he wasn’t supposed to ever know.

As he walked out of the park, his sneakers squeaking with the cobblestone and Christmas lights flickered all over his face, he promised that he’d keep it to himself too. For the sake of all of them, for the sake that Shane would continue to be happy for as long as he can.

Ryan felt a sudden cold sensation on his cheek. Mildly frustrated, he looked back over his shoulder to confront whatever ghost it is this time. When he noticed that nobody is behind him, he absentmindedly observed the group of people running away from the park and into the stores nearby. The children from before holding onto their parents as they hide their faces in their necks and couples running with their own hands tightly intertwined.

It’s raining?

Had he been too used to getting rained on that he didn’t notice?

Ryan stared at to the night sky, dusky clouds surrounded the city as it began to suddenly rain. Droplets fell onto his face, to his hair and soaked him in his clothes. He let it happen, walking home alone through the crowds of fleeing people and cars driving past him.

It’s not until he’s standing outside of his house when he looked back to the sky and smiled.

“Sleep well, Shane,” he whispered to himself, the rain hit him directly in the eyes, some land near his mouth but that doesn’t stop him from smiling widely to what he wants to believe is Shane crying at him.

He’s about to turn around and open the door of his house when he noticed the moon, its light covered by scattered dark blue clouds. Ryan watched as the clouds disperse, letting in the moon to shine on him, drying out the rain that had fallen on him on his way home. He’s quiet when he noticed the rain disappear slowly, rainclouds following close behind and letting the moon shine over the city again.

“I _said_ ,” Ryan coughed exaggeratedly, biting his lip to keep him from smiling too much. He’d hurt himself if he does so. “ _Sleep_ well, Shane. Don’t dream of me too much, big guy.”

Ryan turned back from the moonlight and opened the door to his house. And if he heard Shane’s voice echoed a ‘ _sleep well, Ryan. Don’t tell me what to do’_ then that’s between them.

 

* * *

 

Walking into Tasty or a winter wonderland, that was the million dollar question of the day.

The entire restaurant covered in blanched tinsel, wrapped in colorful lights of red, blue, and green. A white Christmas tree placed by the corner near the door, where the red brick wall was (also covered in red stockings) decorated of beautiful ornaments and topped off with an angel tooting it’s trumpet.

It was… incredible and disturbing at the same time. The tables’ centerpieces no longer had a bowl of nuts and plain white napkins, but mints and napkins with patternized snowmen all around it. Everything, _everything_ was filled with something festive. And in the center of it all, Kelsey stood on her ladder, chewing on her gum as she reached over the menu to add in the last piece of tinsel.

“What is all of this…?” Ryan stumbled over a box labeled _Christmas things my mom had in her basement_. He gestured at it and turned back to Kelsey, for somebody to decorate their restaurant festively, they didn’t dress the part. As long as the sun was out, she’d wear her hat backwards and her signature tank top.

“It’s Christmas,” Kelsey informed, holding the tinsel in one hand and the tape in another. “Come here and help me.”

Ryan maneuvered over boxes, inadvertently stubbing his foot on the one labeled _Ugly Christmas things my mom told me to take_. He reached for the tape as Kelsey does her thing, “is it a little much?”

“It’s never too much for Christmas, bud,” She smiled widely, held out her hand to Ryan for a piece of tape. “What? Have you never decorated for Christmas?”

“Not… in a long time, no.”

It’s true, when his mother was around they’d celebrate Christmas the way his grandmother did with her. She’d decorate the house up and down with tinsel and lights, the house wasn't safe, not even the bathroom itself. She’d used to make Ryan decorate the tree by himself.

(She would help because he’d be too short to reach the top but if he doesn’t mention it, it never happened.)

Seeing Kelsey do the exact thing his mom did warmed his heart, it made him feel slightly at home during the holidays. He sniffled, holding the tape in his hand and alerted Kelsey from the top of the ladder. She stared at him with a worried look, popping her gum, fiddled with the tinsel in her other hand and reached down for Ryan’s hand. “You okay?”

Ryan nodded, taking hold of Kelsey’s hand as she walked down the ladder. “Yeah, is there anyway I could help?”

Skeptical, Kelsey pursed her lips. She doesn’t say anything right away until she turned to look around the restaurant.

“Actually… yes,” she ran over to the booth with a box labeled _Christmas things for the bar note: not for the beer_! and handed it over for Ryan to take. “Unbox this and set them at the bar, would you? It’d keep you busy for an hour or two.” She smiled softly, taking his cheeks in her hands and squeezing them.

His morning proceeded to unboxing Christmas boxes filled with ornaments, sweeping the leftover tinsel from the floor and guiding customers to make sure _they_ didn’t stub their toes on the disordered boxes. Ryan was on his last box at the end of his shift, Kelsey long gone as she had left to buy more tinsel.

(“Where?” Ryan asked her, standing in the middle of literally rows and rows of white tinsel.

“Somewhere, I’m thinking red tinsel, what about you?”)

He’d had just stuffed all of the boxes in the storage room when he heard the bell atop of the door ring. He yelled out his usual greeting and looked up to see Steven with his apron over his shoulder and _Shane_ whistling at the disaster of a restaurant.

“What the hell happened here?” Steven blurted out, his eyes surveyed the restaurant and the chaos around it. “What the fuck are those figurines doing on the bar?”

“Kelsey happened,” Ryan informed, waving a greeting to them. “She left to get more tinsel.”

“ _More_?” Steven hissed out, touching the tinsel, unsettled. “Where the hell is she going to put it? It’s like a tree exploded here, there’s tinsel everywhere.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s nice,” Shane quipped, smugly grinning at the figurines. “I like the demonized Santa there,” he walked over and held it up for Steven to see.

Shane’s holding one of the figurines from the _ugly christmas_ box, the Santa had been worn out to its core, color fading and broken on one side.

“Put that down, you’ll get something by touching it,” Steven scrunched his nose, “I should of known Kelsey was behind this, it wouldn’t be the first.” He ran a hand over his face and placed his apron down on the tinsel covered counter. “It smells like mint in here, Ryan, don’t leave me alone with _them_."

Ryan laughed, “do you want me to stay—”

“Yeah no, that’s not happening,” Shane placed the figurine back on said counter and scratched the stubble on his jawline. “You’re coming with me, Bergara, we’re going to eat.”

“We are?”

“You _are_?”

“Yes,” Shane looked down at Ryan, dark circles around his eyes and no signs of what happened last night, “how do you feel about macaroons?”

“I never had one.”

Shane gasped, “you never lived,” repeating himself from New Orleans. “Besides, you left me passed out on the couch yesterday, how rude.”

“I thought about carrying you to your bed,” Ryan teased, strangely calm as he kept eye contact with Shane. “But out of the thousands of rooms in your mansion?” Ryan shook his head and hummed, “we would have gotten lost.”

“You’re right. You would have set us back to New Orleans.”

“I would—to leave you there.”

Shane guffawed and turned to Steven, “do you see how mean he is to me?”

“Terrifying,” Steven fought with the tinsel on the counter, trying his best to not mess up Kelsey’s handiwork as he tried to clean the dishes.

“Ready to go?” Shane asked, holding Ryan’s bag for him as he waited for him to take his apron off. “What, no red scarf today?”

Ryan reached for the bag from Shane and searched for the scarf inside of his backpack, taking it out and swinging in front of Shane’s face. “I always have it, it’s hotter when the sun’s out anyway.”

“All thanks to me!” Shane proudly patted himself on the back, smiling at both Steven and Ryan. Ryan held his tongue and smiled back, waving a goodbye to Steven.

(“Wait are you really leaving! Come back what am I supposed to do with all this tinsel!”)

Ryan followed Shane’s lead, walking closely next to him. Unlike the situation last night, Shane looked flourished. Nobody would notice if he were sad or not, even if he was, he didn’t show it.

He was wearing a floral button down today, his branding of rolling up his sleeves up to his elbow and showcasing the watch Ryan gave him. (Feeling proud of himself, he’d gotten it at a thrift shop. He might have gotten ripped off but Shane was wearing it anyway.)

“Don’t you actually work?”

Shane hummed, raising his eyebrow at Ryan. “What’s that?”

“Don’t you have work today?”

“Not today,” Shane scratched his head, avoiding the upcoming crowd on their left side. “I have days off too, Ryan.”

“Where’s your job at? Is it far?”

“You already know where I live, you want to stalk me at my job too?”

“Shut up,” Ryan bumped his shoulder to Shane’s arm, _freakishly_ tall man, he couldn’t even bump shoulders with him correctly. Shane chuckled and squatted to meet Ryan’s shoulder bumped it, he only got a shove as a response.

“Where are we going?” Ryan asked after a few minutes of walking, they’ve reached a different part of town, one that Ryan never went by to alone. Tourists often loitered here, visiting the nearby family owned stores and cafes with unusual names.

“ _Cupid’s Cake_?” Ryan voiced the name of the bakery out loud, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Fuck if I know,” Shane shrugged, opening the door for the both of them, “maybe it’s a play of words. Cupid wasn’t a man or a woman, they were a deity that cursed people to fornicate daily long ago.”

Customers in the bakery turned to Shane when he talked, his big mouth drawing attention to the both of them. Ryan laughed anyway, shaking his head and looking at the menu, “you don’t have to be so loud about it.”

The bakery was, in words, homely. Identical to Tasty, it’s surrounded by masonry walls and fluorescent lights hanging on the rafters. It’s obviously refurbished but there’s visible indications that it had been once old and rundown, Ryan understood why Shane would love a bakery like this one.

During this time of day, it was relatively empty, a lone worker stood by the cash register, reading her magazine on the counter with a uninterested expression on her face. She’s young, and even though she looked up when Shane and Ryan walked in together, she made no effort to talk to them.

“It’s true,” Shane defended himself, standing beside Ryan, “they weren’t nice.”

“None of the people you’ve met are,” Ryan addressed, looking at the display in front of them. Cleverly organized, rows of pastries from strawberry cake to croissants look enticing to Ryan’s stomach but not to his diet. He ordered two macaroons and two doughnuts (or talked into it by Shane) for lunch. He wrote a mental note to jog tomorrow morning.

They sat next to a window, L.A’s busy streets beside them. And Ryan wasted zero time to eat, ignoring the way Shane raised his eyebrow and laughed at him. He told him something in the lines of, “it’s good, right?”

“It’s so good,” Ryan muttered over a mouthful of a buttercream doughnut. Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he tried to smile at Shane and offered his doughnut to him, unexpectedly, Shane took a bite. It had been so sudden that Ryan almost dropped the doughnut in his hand. He doesn’t even _want_ to know how couple-y they must look.

“You—”

“It’s good,” Shane nodded, reaching for the crumbs falling out of his mouth. “Do you want another?”

“I ate two of them already,” Ryan placed the doughnut back down on his napkin, “If I eat anything else I might puke.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Shane looked over to the front of the bakery, his eyes narrowed before he averted his gaze back over to Ryan. He must have thought that Ryan missed it yet, Ryan whirled his head over his shoulder. There wasn’t anybody there other than the cash register girl, she never took her eyes off the magazine.

“What was that?” Ryan asked, pointing behind his shoulder.

“What was what?”

“ _That_ ,” Ryan mocked the look on Shane’s face, “you can’t hide it from me, I saw it.”

“She’s… she’s somebody that uh,” Shane’s eyes skimmed through the bakery and landed on a man sitting across from them. He’s scrunched over, texting happily on his phone and unknowingly jiggled his foot under the table. He’s attractive, Ryan thought, blonde hair fell over his eyes and covered his smile with his hand.

Shane pointed to him, “that _he_ used to know,” turning back to Ryan and picked on the leftover doughnut. He doesn’t elaborate but took a bite of _Ryan’s_ doughnut.

“Were they relatives or something?” Ryan drummed his knuckles on the table lightly, trying to gain Shane’s attention when he’s digging into the dessert. When he is offered no reply other than a lopsided grin and a shrug, Ryan turned his head to the man.

“He’s attractive,” Ryan confessed, tapping his fingers on the table and resting his head with his other hand. “He’s not bad to look at.”

“What? He’s—” Shane furrowed his eyebrows, cleaning his hand with his napkin. “What are you on about?”

Ryan shrugged, decided not to elaborate either. He mentally patted himself on the back when Shane turned around to stare at the man, without looking, Ryan took back the doughnut and shoved the remaining doughnut in his mouth.

Shane’s looking at the man for a while, before finally settling back to his chair. It’s not long when the bakery’s door opens though, walking in a woman talking on the phone. She’s smiling as she talked, pulling back her long flowing hair over her shoulder as she pivoted to the register.

“She’s pretty too,” Ryan pursed his lips, “attractive people sure love to eat here.”

Snorting, Shane leaned over the table and crooked his finger to Ryan to listen in. When he’s in range of hearing him, Shane whispered: “She’s on the phone with her boyfriend. He’s on the phone with his girlfriend. Both of them are going to run into each other, she’ll fall and he’ll catch her. Love at first sight.”

“You’re weird,” Ryan grumbled, none of them try to look at the man or woman anymore. But assuming by the sound of text clicking on a phone and the lady gasping in surprise, Shane might have been right.

Ryan turned over his chair when he saw Shane move his hand to twist it. Both the man and the woman end up in a odd series of events, first, she’d catch her sleeve on his blazer, once they disconnect, Shane twirled his hand again and she ended up tripping over her feet and over to his chest; her long hair caught onto the button of his shirt.

Raising his eyebrow, Ryan clicked his tongue once they disconnect _again_. The woman appeared furious, she began to walk over to grab her order and leave but Shane is faster, twisting his hand again causing her to actually trip over her feet and for the man to catch her midair.

Ryan covered his mouth in surprise, hiding back his laugh as the couple looked into each other’s eyes. “Stop that,” he scolded, “stop playing cupid.”

“I’m not making them fornicate,” Shane grinned, standing from his seat. “that would have been inappropriate.”

Ryan followed him, throwing his garbage away and sneaking past the smiling couple. As soon as they’re outside, Shane clasped his hands behind his back and squinted at the windy air.

“Were you showing off? Sorry to break it to you but you impressed me long ago, big guy.”

“How nice, are you complimenting me?”

“Don’t twist my words.” The couple are still holding each other, now talking instead of just straight up staring. The cash register girl returned back to her magazine, unaware of the events in front of her.

“I saw their past,” Shane shared, “the man was evil in his past life. The woman is his past girlfriend, and the girl,” Shane pointed with his chin over to the employee, “is their daughter conceived out of wedlock.”

“In this life, they’re both unfaithful and liars to their partners. And the girl? She’s an orphan, this bakery is her sole source of income. They’ll visit this bakery often and soon enough, adopt the girl into their lives,” Shane looked back to Ryan, “and all in the course of a year.”

Shane whirled around to walk in the opposite direction, Ryan took one look over to the couple, the girl and ran over to Shane. “Wow, why did you do it?”

“It’d make their lives harder. I don’t know what you mean.”

“But—but you just said—

“There’s a catch to everything Ryan,” Shane interrupted, “the man will cheat and the woman will leave him with her daughter, she’ll live a long life of hatred to her adoptive father and they’ll fall back into poverty.”

Shane went on, “fate loves to play with people, especially with people who had sinned in their past lives.”

Ryan hummed, focusing his eyes on the pavement. “And here I thought you were a hero.”

“I’m not—I didn’t set them up together, this isn’t a reality show. They were bound to meet now or sometime in this life. I _thought_ I taught you that people aren’t nice.”

“Are you teaching me a lesson?” Ryan shook his head, cursing himself as he found humority in the whole situation. It was serious, unkind; the man and the woman he had seen would not only ruin each other’s lives but their reincarnated daughter’s. “Didn’t deem you as a teacher.”

“I was a professor once,” Shane mentioned that before. During his time in France, he graduated with a bachelor's degree in teaching literature. He wasn’t very good. “I wasn’t very good.”

“I know,” Ryan chuckled.

“I know that you know,” Shane lifted his arm, the one where Ryan’s watch is adorned gracefully on his wrist and poked Ryan’s forehead. “I can hear your loud ass thoughts.”

“A nickel for yours then?”

“Shoot.”

“If you can see other people’s past, their _past_ lives,” Ryan began, tugged both sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. The sun bearing down on him wasn’t forgiving, he loved his burgundy sweater but not when he’s sweating droplets. “can you see mine? Tell me Shane, was I a movie fanatic in my past life?”

“Maybe,” Shane joked, “you’d be crazier, a ghost hunter.”

Ryan huffed, crossing his arms like a child. “You would think I would tire of seeing ghosts, now I’m chasing after them too? Fuck sakes.”

With a snort, Shane paused and reached for Ryan’s forearm, fingers wrapped around his wrist as he squinted his eyes at Ryan. Shane’s eyes are a shade lighter when the sun’s rays hit them, a tint of light brown glared down at Ryan, they narrow at him before he sighed.

“I can’t see your past life,” Shane confessed, “I never could the second I saw you, I thought it was a mistake, a glitch you’d find after playing the oldest indie game alive.”

“Great analogy.”

“Your past is a secret, what are you hiding there?” Shane pressed a finger to Ryan’s forehead.

“Huh,” Ryan pondered, slapping Shane’s finger away. “I shouldn’t have been the kindest person, I’m cursed to be your husband after all.”

Shane gasped dramatically, “you’re so mean! How dare you speak to me like that I’m your _husband_!”

“My husband with a sword in his chest,” Ryan scoffed, he’s grinning to himself like an idiot. “I asked for a job, better grades and a boyfriend when we met, you only granted one! Terrible goblin, what kind of deity are you?”

“Insulting me like this,” Shane placed his hand on his chest and backed away slowly. “I know we bicker but you’re really a psychopath. I recommended you at the restaurant you’re currently working in—”

“That’s it.”

“That’s _—”_ Shane threw his arms in the air before resting them both around his hips, such an odd stance. “Stop belittling me in your small little head, I don’t condone cheating, we’re supposed to be supporting and loving!”

“Uh huh,” Ryan bit his tongue, smiling and walking away from Shane’s remarks.

“And you know what?”

“What?”

“I granted _all_ your wishes! With no way of reward!”

“You didn’t give me a boyfriend,” Ryan addressed, last time he checked he was still single.

“I did!”

“Oh yeah where is he?” Ryan taunted, watching as Shane paced on the crosswalk. He’d look frustrated in someone else's point of view but Ryan could see the amused twinkle in his eye. “I don’t see him—”

“ _Here_!" Shane hollered, taking Ryan by the shoulder and pointing at… himself.

Something told Ryan that this isn’t a bit anymore and he blinked exaggeratedly at Shane. Unable to speak, he looked around, _anywhere else_ but not at Shane as he comprehended what just had happened. It had to be a joke, it _was_ a joke. There wasn’t any way Shane was serious, besides he would be wrong, he’d be his husband straight off the bat if they had a choice.

“You’re right,” Shane’s voice startled him, jumping nearly a mile high as he saw the smirk on Shane’s face. “I made a mistake, I’m actually your husband.”

Oh, so that’s how he’s going to play.

“Shut _up,_ Shane.”

“Should of seen your face,” Shane chuckled loudly, his eyes squinting as he slapped his knee, he’s pretending it’s the best bit he’s ever done.

“I’m going home,” Ryan said nonchalantly, watching Shane lose it in front of him. “Don’t follow me.”

“Oh no!” Shane shouted after he turned around, “wait for me, baby! It’s _our_ home now!”

 

* * *

 

Ryan worked the next day, his shift busier on a Saturday than a Friday morning. Customers came in during breakfast and continued to flood in until lunch time. He didn’t know if it was because of the eye-catching festive decorations drawing them in or if the holiday season made everyone want to drink all day.

He could relate though, he hasn’t made any effort to go Christmas shopping for anyone or had the chance to help decorate his house. His aunt told him not to, that she and her children were heading out to visit family and that Ryan—who had shifts and responsibilities in Los Angeles—should stay alone for Christmas.

It took lots of Tylenol and a long talk with Jen to keep him from bawling alone in his room, it wouldn't help but he knew that he had no right to give his cousins presents in the first place.

He kept to himself for most of his shift, serving customers and cleaning tables whenever they left. They had been kind to him, calling him by name if they needed him or whenever they wanted to make small talk with him. He wouldn’t say it out loud but he’s gotten at least _three_ numbers by two men and a woman that flirted with him.

Kelsey showed up earlier than him and left before Steven could arrive, she had told every employee to pitch in on the busy dinner rush up until they closed, however, she told Ryan to leave or she’ll have his head. Steven gave him a frown when he told him this, but agreed with Kelsey’s logic of letting Ryan go home instead of working over forty hours again.

With reddened, flushed cheeks, he stuffed his fourth phone number into his pocket and walked over to clock out. The fourth number was a man too. He’d call for Ryan not only to ask for another beer but to talk to him about how lovely Los Angeles was during the day.

(He didn’t have the heart to tell him that his pretend-husband-goblin-betrothed made it rain for decades and that the sun was only out because of _him_.)

He laughed along, ignoring the blandness of the man’s hand on his shoulder and told him that he’d finished his shift. (And if the man said he’d wait for him to grab lunch, well, he didn't catch it.)

It wasn’t like Ryan wanted to date, that wasn’t the case. He had dated women before back in high school, all nice girls who told him that he was too strange for them. He thinks it’s true, he couldn’t take care of anybody else even if he tried.

Walking by Steven, he stood over to the edge of the bar where one would clock out. He took off his apron, swung it over his shoulder and pulled out his stamp. Before he could do so, he felt a towering presence behind him, looming over him and baffled Ryan with his sudden appearance.

His mind first thought of the man who gave him his number but relaxed when the hovering figure extended his arm and took Ryan’s stamp. The silver watch on his wrist rose a few red flags as to who it might be and Ryan smiled to himself.

“You think a lot,” Shane announced, voice deeper and raspy as if he had just woken up. He pressed his chest to Ryan’s back, his breath next to Ryan’s hair as he clocked out for Ryan. Ryan helped him by pushing his designated code and turning around to face Shane.

“I was outside, still, I could hear everything in your big ol’ head,” Shane teased further, looking down at Ryan with a grin.

He was wearing a navy blue sweater, _again_ , rolled up to his elbows and bare faced. Whenever Shane shaved his beard off, it made him look younger than he really was. Ryan thought it was his favorite _Shane Look_ so far but he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

Shane’s grin grew, obviously he’d heard Ryan’s thoughts anyway.

“It’s not like you weren’t going to come in,” Ryan pressed, leaning his own back to the wall. If Shane tried to lean his hand on the wall and over Ryan’s head as teenage couples do in the movies, he’ll kill him when he least expected.

“I wasn’t,” Shane defended himself, pulling his arm back and keeping himself from doing what Ryan thought he would do. “But I heard your voice and I couldn’t help it.”

“Cheesy.”

Shane turned his head to the customers that lingered for lunch. He pursed his lips and reached for Ryan’s bag and apron. “Steven!” He shouted, catching Steven’s attention and he jogged over. When Steven’s near, Shane softly tossed Ryan’s things to him, “keep his things secured and take them home, I’m going to take him somewhere.”

“What?”

“ _What_?”

“Just do what I say,” Shane then pointed a finger at him, “if anything is lost, I’ll purposely turn all the faucets on at the house, it’s your turn to pay, isn’t it?”

“I just paid last _month_ , you bastard.”

“Where are we going?” Ryan asked, he fixed his hair and threw on his denim jacket. If he knew Shane right, he assumed that they weren’t going to stay in Los Angeles for the next few hours.

“Canada.” Well, he was right.

“Canada?!” Ryan blurted out as Shane grabbed his wrist courteously. He led him over to the front of the restaurant and turned at the last minute to yell something _else_ to Steven.

From the corner of his eye, Ryan watched at the man who gave him his number grimace at Shane and him together. _Shit_ , he’d almost forgotten. Feeling guilty, he tried to seperate from Shane to apologize but Steven shouted: _use protection!_ And all of Ryan’s brain functions turn off.

The man paled and took a sip of his beer as he witnessed Ryan explain that they’re _not_ going to do any of that.

“We’re not doing any of that,” Ryan repeated to Shane but all he does is smile at him and dragged him outside of Tasty. Feeling queasy all of a sudden, Ryan whimpered and held himself upward against a brick wall. The sound of people talking and laughing buzzed in his ears as he tried to catch his surroundings.

He first saw Shane, blinking at him worried then over to the brighter lights behind him. It was darker here, the sun had already set and his only source of light was from the common luminescence of red, blue and green.

“You okay, bud?”

“What the _hell_ is going on?”

“I must have pushed you too hard,” Shane muttered and chewed on his bottom lip, then balanced Ryan. “We’re in Canada, little guy, smile for the camera.”

Oh, that’s right. Canada’s different from Los Angeles, it’s _colder_ and its neighboring buildings looked older. He shivered, closing his denim jacket to save himself from the frigid wind. He’s about to swear at Shane for taking his bag away where his _scarf_ was when Shane shows him what he’s been carrying.

He had already had his own coat before handing over Ryan’s red scarf and a coat of his own. He doesn’t waste any time to put them on yet, he doesn’t bother to push Shane away when he’s the one wrapping his scarf around him.

“You couldn’t take us somewhere where’s it’s not fucking cold,” he mumbled over his scarf, although he’s wearing _two jackets_ , he’s still shaking like a newborn.

“I miscalculated, you’re not as used to the cold as I thought you were,” Shane frowned, “maybe we should go find you a beanie to wear.”

“I’m from _Los Angeles_ the coldest it’s ever been is _60 degrees_!” Ryan argued, holding himself closer to Shane as they walked towards the twinkling lights. A sign towered over them both, _Toronto’s Holiday Market_ , covered by tinsel and Christmas lights. (Kelsey must have helped to decorate that too.)

“Fun fact, whenever it rains in L.A, it gets colder.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan laughed anyway, his breath visible as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “You’re into science now?”

“Well, I’ve been studying Newton’s law recently,” Shane shrugged, his face illuminated by the many booths around them. People huddled beside them and made no effort to break them apart. Ryan’s tempted to intertwine their arms just in case, _also to preserve body heat because it’s cold as hell_. “As boring as I’ll make it sound, you’re freezing your ass off, do you want to get coffee?”

Ryan nodded, following Shane until they reach a café. It was like he’d been here before, he knew these streets like the back of his hand and if he didn’t know where he was going, he never mentioned it.

The café was ancient, less modernized than the ones in L.A. With white colored plastered walls that made Shane scrunch his nose and older figurines on shelves than the ones placed in Tasty’s bar. As long as it was warm inside, Ryan didn’t care if the lochness monster was in here. It was cheaper too and for the first time, Ryan won the argument that he would be the one to pay for their drinks.

“I don’t think your interests are boring,” Ryan told Shane when they sat in a booth together. There wasn’t a lot of room in the café, they had to settle for a section of a booth that only catered for the couples kissing and cuddling around them.

(“Quick, maybe we’d get a free dessert if we act like one,” Shane whispered to him when they sat down, grabbing Ryan’s legs and placing them on his lap.

Ryan cursed him out, but made no effort to move his legs, “they’re frozen, I can’t move them,” he told Shane when he asked him about it.)

“Oh?” Shane raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms on the table and looking at Ryan. It wasn’t a lot to look at him, he was halfway onto his lap already. “So, do you want to hear about Newton’s law?”

And boy, did he hear about it.

Ryan knew the basics but Shane told him the _facts_. Shane had the honor to learn about physics when he attended Harvard long ago, he had told him that he hated it, yet, he paid thousands of dollars to hear about it and therefore, every now and then, he’ll try to reteach himself physics so he wouldn’t completely forget it.

“You had me going there until you said ghosts don’t truly exist.”

“It’s plausible,” Shane claimed, taking a sip of his coffee. “All I know is that there’s no way a ghost could touch a physical object. You and I both know that. In conclusion, whenever somebody points to fallen object _due to gravity_ , it doesn’t mean that it’s a ghost.”

Ryan hummed, placing his own coffee down on the table. “Sorry sir, I think that it’s possible, I’ve touched a ghost before.”

Shane’s hand landed on his calf when he faced Ryan, his expression dulled, “I thought you said they couldn’t touch you.”

“I didn’t say that _I_ couldn’t,” he replied, letting out a gasp of surprise when Shane squeezed his calf with his hand. Ryan flinched, almost connected his knee with Shane’s chin. He took it as his cue to remove his legs from Shane’s lap, however when he tried to do so, Shane merely shoved them back in place.

“You have to tell me these things,” Shane told him, ignoring the fact that he’d partially manhandled Ryan’s legs. “Not only can you _see_ them but you can touch them _too_? Do I have to disintegrate all of them?”

“No?” It’s not a question, Ryan tried to remove his legs again and sit upright but Shane silently held them in place with his hand, taking a sip of his coffee. “Don’t kill ghosts, Shane, it’s not nice.” He leaned forward when Shane snorted in response, “could you let me go? I want to sit normally.”

Shane shook his head, licking his bottom lip. “No can do, I need your marital energy as close as possible.”

“Ah,” Ryan, unfazed, sarcastically nods his head. “Explain, big guy.”

“You told me to stop making it rain, your energy helps sometimes,” Shane divulged casually, his fingers aren’t touching Ryan’s clothed calf anymore but they hovered over his kneecap.

It doesn’t spark anything in Ryan other than he _wanted_ to sit five miles away from Shane at the moment. He knew what he was talking about though, he pressed that matter to the back of his mind where Shane couldn’t see it and wryly smiled.

“Okay,” Ryan moved Shane’s arm away from his legs, freeing them as he rose from his seat. “You’ve lost it, big guy. Come on, did we come to Canada to drink coffee?”

Shane turned to him, looking _up_ at Ryan for once before he gets up himself. “As long as you keep your marital energy around me, I’ll be fine.”

Ryan grew quiet, squinting his eyes at Shane. “You’re a maniac, threatening ghosts. Now, taking me to a foreign country and refusing to let me go? I was convinced you’ll leave me alone here.”

He watched as Shane threw a pile cash on their discarded table, he made no move to walk over to Ryan and when he does, he inched closer to whisper in Ryan’s ears. “Last time I remembered, I sent you in _here_ because you were freezing your ass off,” Shane took one long look at Ryan’s hair before reaching for his coat pocket, he took out a gray beanie, one that Ryan hasn’t seen him have before.

“How long have you had that?” Ryan asked as he took it from Shane’s hands, placing it on his head and fixing his hair as best as he can.

“Not long, a few seconds,” Shane wiggled his long fingers in Ryan’s face and pushed the café’s door open. “I’m magic, remember? Make sure you put your scarf on tightly and over your mouth. Got it?”

“Yes, Shane,” Ryan uttered out through the red scarf and trailed behind Shane to the frigid cold. It was colder than before, _at least_ a few degrees less, whatever temperature it was, Ryan was sure he was going to die.

“I’m going to die,” He voiced out loud, he screwed up his face and blinked at Shane’s phone, and at his stupid weather app. There wasn’t any way that a city could be _10 degrees,_ people would freeze on the spot the second they’re sent outside.

“You’re halfway there,” Shane mocked, pocketing his phone. “Soon you’ll be an icicle, you’ll finally be cool.”

Ryan was too busy freezing his ass off to kick him in the shin.

Despite the horrendous weather, Toronto wasn’t all that bad. The food was great, Ryan thought so. He’s never settled for anything other than Los Angeles restaurant chains and his daily mac and cheese made by his cousin because he _knew_ how to cook.

So this, whatever he was eating was a delicacy. It began with Shane pointing at different booths with hot drinks and food, sooner or later, they’ve both been arms deep in plates that neither would dream of eating on a regular basis.

As delicious as the food was, the sights weren’t as bad either. Ryan saw more Christmas decorations that he’d ever have in his life, he didn’t know that there was over three hundred types of tinsel and that people often decorated their trees with popcorn.

(“It’s my favorite part of Christmas, the popcorn… Steven would tell me that I couldn’t eat it. What’s the worst that could happen? I get sick and die?”)

“How _can_ you die?” Ryan inquired as they stopped in front of a shop, Shane’s arms had been occupied with things Ryan had bought (as punishment) and the sight of crystal white ornaments in the shop’s windows only made him groan in distress.

“It’s a mystery to us all,” Shane shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the bag with Ryan’s new jacket inside alongside with his new pair of glasses. Shane bought _both_ for him (he had forced him on the floor of the shop, nearly at gunpoint) to buy a warmer jacket for the upcoming winter in Los Angeles. He couldn’t complain, he didn’t even have the chance to tell Shane that he’d bought contacts weeks after he’d first started working, too.

Ryan hummed. Whenever Shane turned his question with a joke or a phrase like so, he’s usually unsettled with the answer he’d give him or just wouldn’t like to talk about it. Ryan, unfortunately, tested that theory when he’d asked about the rain in Los Angeles.

He’s come to learn whenever Shane doesn’t want to talk about something, he looks away from Ryan and changes the subject.

“What do you think about these? They’re nice, right?” He suggested, pointing a nimble, cold finger at the glass to the white ornaments. They looked homemade, it’s aesthetically designs painted by hand made it seem expensive than they initially were.

“They’re pretty, I like the bluebird on the side,” the side of Shane’s mouth lifted up in a smile. “Why do you ask?”

Ryan smiled, fiddled with his own scarf and headed inside of the shop. No longer than ten minutes later, Shane’s holding another bag and Ryan has a mental image to save for the rest of his life.

They’ve strolled around Toronto’s holiday market for hours, the clock on Ryan’s own phone announced that it would struck midnight soon, if that were to be true, it must be getting close to his bedtime in L.A.

Shane made fun of him when he told him that, called him a baby as his red hands held Ryan’s bags in the cold. Feeling sorry for him and tired that the bit has gone this far, Ryan offered to carry some of his bags, too.

“It’s okay, take the ones that aren’t as heavy, keep your hands in your coat pockets at all times.”

Ryan does, laughing at their pitiful sight. In the middle of the holiday market’s entrance, people kept filling in as others began to leave or close their booths and shops for the night. They exchanged bags as best as they could, it didn’t stop Shane from teasing him about married couples and how they’d carry their groceries.

Before Ryan could respond to him, Shane’s head suddenly twisted to the side, his side profile visible to Ryan as he narrowed his eyes at the area in front of them.

Ryan turned his own head too, as if to catch whatever caught Shane’s attention. If it were a ghost, Ryan wouldn’t have felt it, (maybe he would have if it wasn’t cold already) but he would have seen them. There couldn’t be a ghost in Toronto, Ryan’s never been here, he didn’t know anybody; there wasn’t a person here that knew him previously.

“What’s wrong? What did you see?”

Shane’s jaw tightened, his eyes still focused on the vacated road ahead of them. There were people with bags of their own, children hanging from their father’s shoulders or couples walking hand in hand. No ghost, no ghost with a blade in their chest.

“Nothing,” Shane responded abruptly, his voice null of all emotion and croaky from the cold he’s inhaled. “We should head home, you might get sick if you’re out here longer.”

“Okay,” Ryan nodded, picking up his bags from the cobblestone, he’s about to follow Shane’s footsteps when he noticed one of the bags were missing. The one where it had his new jacket and glasses in—the one that Shane’s money had contributed to. He’s about to freak when he caught sight of a man.

Standing at the entrance of the holiday market, the man’s clouded figure is illuminated modestly by the many lights. He wore all black, black robe, black pants and a black hat decorating his head. He didn’t have kind eyes, they were too dark to see any color in them, even then, they both resembled two dark irises. Underneath his wool hat however, Ryan caught the sight of blonde hair sticking out.

The man stood there, looking straight ahead and over Ryan’s shoulder. There was a slim percentage that the man was a ghost by the way he kept still and came out of nowhere but he had an aura to him that was different to Ryan.

“Aren’t you forgetting this?” The man cooly urged, his own voice deep, he held the bag he’d been searching for. Something in the back of Ryan’s mind told him to run and fuck Shane’s money but he doesn’t think twice before he’s reaching for it. He doesn’t get to touch the bag when there’s a hand holding his and pulling him back.

He crashed onto Shane’s side, and looked up to see him enraged. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“He can see me,” the man gaped at Ryan, his eyes rounded before taking in his appearance. “That’s a lost soul. What is he to you, Shane Madej?”

“What he is or isn’t is _none_ of your business,” Shane hissed, harshly grabbed the bag from the man’s hand and shoved it in Ryan’s chest. Well, it wasn’t as rough as he thought it was, he was confused and he would appreciate some light on the situation.

Both Shane and the man stare at him, disbelief from the man’s face and Shane just looked pissed off, it wouldn’t surprise Ryan if he were to throw punches at somebody any second. “What’s going on? Who are you—”

“Ryan—”

“Ryan?”

Shane sighed in irritation, giving up once he realized that Ryan was still with him in a country they both didn’t know. If the man was someone Shane once knew, whether it be an old friend or an enemy, it wasn’t wise to fight him and land in prison in _Canada_. “If we’re in your territory, we’ll leave now.”

“You—you found Ryan Bergara,” the man responded instead, casually saying Ryan’s name and glowered at Shane. “I would suggest you _both_ leave.”

“We will,” Ryan—with the last bit of confidence and bravery he had left—declared.

He slid his own hand over Shane’s hand, dragged him away from the man and whatever the fuck his intentions are. He force Shane to walk away, yet he kept his eyes centered on the man. Ryan tried to get to the nearest door when Shane pulled away gently and strolled over to the man.

He doesn’t touch him, _thank god_ , Shane doesn’t hurt him but he does threaten him: “Try to touch him again and I’ll kill you.”

The man kept his posture, no sign of fear in his eyes as he looked at Shane and over to Ryan trying to pull him away. “I won’t, he’d die if I do so. You obviously wouldn’t want that would you?”

“Son of a bitch—”

“Shane,” Ryan attempted, finally wrapping his hand around Shane’s forearm and making him walk away before the problem escalated further. How did this happen? They had such a great time together, he was sure that both of them had been in a good mood and it weren’t for whoever that was, Ryan would have gone to sleep without any other questions popping in his head.

If it’s any consolation, it only pressed the issue that Ryan didn’t know Shane at all. The thought scared him, Shane was one to keep secrets from Ryan, he knew that and he would have rather preferred to know if he was getting into some deep shit before diving head first.

They walked away from the market, (well he did, Shane kept his feet on the floor and his eyes over to the man just in case.) This time, Ryan was the one to push Shane through the door before taking a deep exhale and walking inside himself. He missed the way the man disappeared once he did.

Los Angeles’ air was warm and comforting than Toronto’s cold and tense atmosphere. Ryan kept himself up by holding to a table, the decorations placed nearly fell to the floor as he did. He wasn’t outside at all, he was in a house, he was in _Shane’s_ house no less. Dropping his bags by the door where he came through, Ryan walked over to Shane where he restored to pacing in his kitchen.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” Ryan consoled, repeating Shane’s words to him before he could do so out loud. Shane still looked pissed, yet, it had faded significantly when he was in the safety of his own home. “We won’t talk about it.”

“It’s in your nature to ask,” Shane pondered, the anger in his voice gone. “Why won’t you ask?”

“Because you would scold me,” Ryan walked out of the kitchen and sat on the couch with a groan. He took off the layers of clothing he has on to make himself at home. (It wasn’t even his own house.) “I don’t want to argue with you right now. I had a good night and I kind of want to sleep.”

Shane kept his silence, Ryan couldn’t see him from the kitchen, though he knew that he was squinting his eyes and thinking ferociously. Last time he did something like that, Ryan told him that he’d get wrinkles and Shane told him to fuck off or _he’d_ get wrinkles.

“I would tell you if you asked,” Shane pivoted to the living room, his coat and shoes miraculously disappeared. “That man was a reaper, and _you_ almost touched him.”

“A _what_?”

“His name is Andrew. He’s a deity who collects souls. If you touch one,” Shane swallowed, crossing his arms and leaning on the staircase railing. “You’d die instantly. If a human touched one—I almost had a heart attack when I saw you reaching for him, I just panicked. It would have been better than killing him in front of you.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, he loved to get himself in these situations didn’t he? The man, Andrew, looked thin enough, he would have taken in himself without Shane’s help. But then again, he’d be cold and dead on the cobblestone before he’d could get a punch in.

“He called me a lost soul,” Ryan recalled, leaning backwards on the crease of the couch. “What does that mean?”

Shane didn’t answer right away, he only broke eye contact with Ryan and so did Ryan. He kept his eyes on the ceiling waiting with his droopy eyes, he heard Shane’s feet walk over to him before sitting down next to him.

“Some questions can’t be answered right away,” Shane muttered, “go to sleep Ryan, I’ll take you home in the morning.”

He didn’t need to be told twice before he succumbed to the darkness—the words _lost_ soul resonated in his mind. He dreamt of his mother dying with him alongside of her even though he was nothing but a fetus.

Nothing made sense, nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

The first sign was when he’d been called to his boss’s office for the second time that week. It had been his last warning, Shane knew this but he couldn’t stop himself from snickering into his hand and maniacally rubbing his hands together as if that would make his boss think twice about calling him in that morning.

Shane didn’t complain and sat up from his chair, passing interns and the copy machine room to the office he knew by heart.

His company’s interior designer was the worst, baby blue walls didn’t make the room stand out, it made it look uglier than it already was. The furniture didn’t match the walls either, wooden desk and a random ass ficus next to the couch he sat previously.

Last time there were coasters on the horrific green accent table in front of him, assuming that his boss was talking and drinking with somebody before calling Shane in and soberly explaining that if he didn’t get his shit together, he’d be kicked out of their agreement.

Jokes on him, he’s destined to leave in thirty years.

He would take Steven with him out of spite, to show the owner of said company that Steven was more than a business junkie like him, that he wanted to be _somebody_ and help people along the way.

Except, he couldn’t say that anymore, not when his betrothed is seconds away from taking the blade’s hilt and removing it in one go, expecting Shane to turn into a beautiful prince.

He thought that had been the reason why his mind wasn't in the right lately. He’d been missing work by disappearing thanks to Ryan, never returning calls from clients or informing his boss that he’d take days off because he liked a human and Shane wasn’t ever sure if said human was out of danger until he saw it for himself.

Shane knew that acting this way didn’t help anybody—Ryan was most capable of taking care of himself and didn’t need Shane to worry about him. He’d even told him before that there wasn’t any need to walk him home or watch him take the bus, he knew Los Angeles like the back of his hand and he could throw a punch if need be. He couldn’t help himself though, it was more for Ryan than for Shane, anyway.

Andrew’s uninvited appearance kept him on edge, he was afraid for Ryan and what Andrew could do to him if he wasn’t around. Shane wasn’t fond of resurrecting Ryan again, taking them both back to where it all began, a full circle. Plus, it would be kind of difficult to explain that to Ryan, especially when he saved him _and_ his mother all in one go.

(Then Ryan would really want Shane to die and pull the blade out without hesitation.)

As forbidden as it may be, reapers don’t follow the rules when it comes to resurrected human begins like Ryan. Driving Shane insane and at a crossroads between paying attention at work or threatening Andrew until he was content.

“We lost a client today,” Shane crossed his legs, sitting straighter on the couch. He didn’t hear his boss walk in, an old man of fifty surely did have quiet footsteps and even if Shane was older than him in age, he had more wrinkles than he knew what to do with.

In contrast to Shane’s own uniform, he was wearing a absurd suit, gray with an old-fashioned pattern engraved all around the blazer. Did the interior design pick his outfit too?

“I’m aware.”

“Are you also aware that they were under your name?” His boss sat down, leaning forward with both elbows on the desk and staring at Shane keenly. “How come they left when you’re the best we’ve got?”

_Are you aware of manners_? Shane thought, running a hand through his hair and down to his chin. “I apologize for the inconvenience on my part, I haven’t been in the best mood.”

“We know,” his boss responded. “Mr. Madej, this company expects all employees to pitch in, we can’t accept distractions. If this happens again, I will fire you, do I make myself clear?”

Shane held himself from rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He wouldn’t fire Shane, he had his boss’ son in his custody and continuously brought him millions of dollars before, one lost account didn’t affect him at all. _Greedy old man, you had been the same in your past life. Old habits die hard, no?_

“I understand, sir,” Shane nodded, he stood up from the couch, fixing his blazer and took his leave.

“Madej, if it’s a woman you’re worried about then I would understand,” his boss added as he walked away, making him raise his eyebrow at him from the doorway. “I had been like that with my first wife.”

Damn you and your heteronormativity.

“No sir,” Shane pursed his lips, “it’s a man.” He nonchalantly shrugged when his boss grew silent, writing on the binder he had in front of him. He wouldn’t lie to satisfy him, not when Shane walked out of his office in a foul mood; Shane was completely willing to listen to him ramble instead of scolding him for losing a client.

He sneered, walking away to the hallway he came from and lifted his hand. The phone in his office rang, it’d be the client they’ve lost and Shane would convince her to reconsider and his boss would congratulate him by the end of the day.

(He was right.)

Shane decided to walk home rather than take the easier route after work. Usually he’d take his leave when the last employee does, but today, he didn’t even wait for any of them to leave before he’s out the door. Today was shitty, everyday was shitty for Shane, the sunny weather was shitty, reapers are shitty. Everything was _shitty_. He clenched his fists, stressing his pain to something other than the rain or else Ryan would have his head.

Ryan.

What’s he thinking of doing with him?

Taking him out to eat, taking him to _Canada_ , keeping an eye on him whenever someone turned their heads in his direction. He couldn’t blame them, Ryan was a marvel to behold, his legs moving him skillfully from table to table, his notepad where he would write their orders with nimble fingers, the same ones he’d felt on his hair. Everything about him Shane admired, although he wouldn’t admit it, he didn't want to stop seeing him.

It went beyond the promise he made for himself when he was resurrected, the whole _don’t get attached_ bullshit he told himself for centuries about everybody he had met. He never stayed to see them die, he rejected their confessions and kept his distance from people who tried to get on his good side.

It was easy for him to fall into Ryan’s arms the way he had done, maybe, just maybe, it was because he was his betrothed.

The real question is, could he touch the blade? Would he dare try if he knew Shane’s doom afterwards? Wouldn’t it be better for the both of them to do that?

Shane let out a harsh breath, he jammed his clammy hands into the pockets of his pants. His legs taking him to the direction of his house unconsciously, god knows that if he had the power, he would endlessly walk around Los Angeles for days.

He had to tell him, he had to tell him the truth. He had to tell him and whether he’d cry or not or demand to never see Shane again, he’d respect his fate to die or move far, far away from North America.

Ryan would live better, without worrying for Shane or cursing him for making it rain all the damn time. He’d be better off if Shane wasn’t in his life, reapers would leave him alone and he’d life amicably.

He’d move on, get a job somewhere and have a family of his own. He didn’t need Shane. He would see Shane young as he aged and when Ryan would die, Shane would be alone again, waiting for him to be resurrected into his life.

_It would be for him_ , he told himself, opening the gate of his house and closing it behind him. The lights were on, assuming that Steven had stayed home from work. It wasn’t that early for dinner, maybe he made something for them both. He’d hope so, because he was starving and depressed.

He felt the first drop of rain when he stepped on his porch, shoving his keys into the door’s lock and pushed it open. It didn’t open, the door hit something hard, blocking the door from opening all the way and Shane had to squeeze his body through the narrow gap it offered. Once he had both legs inside of his house, he looked down to the the offended object blocking his entry.

A box labeled _Christmas_ sat there, opened and nearly pillaged. He knew where it came from, Steven had saved all his mother’s things when he moved here, this was one of the many boxes she left him. Shane opened his mouth to shout at Steven for keeping it so close to the door when he heard _another_ voice.

“Should I put it here? Or is that too much?”

“Too much? Kelsey really got into your head, put it wherever.”

Oh fuck.

He’s here.

_Of course he’s here, he knows where you live dip shit._

Shane stepped over the fallen Christmas tinsel on his wooden floor warily, taking off his blazer before he caught sight of his house covered upside down with Christmas decorations.

At least it’s subtle than the restaurant (with the delicious hot wings) where Ryan’s working at. The plastic Christmas tree was Steven’s, it lived in the attic for years until he decided he wasn’t too lazy to put it up, it covered the Mona Lisa picture and was filled with white and golden ornaments.

The same ones that Ryan had bought yesterday, the pretty ones that Shane picked out as best as he could when he was holding all of the bags in his arms. In fact, everything in his house were the decorations Ryan purchased, they had a place to call home. _At his house_.

When he bought them, Shane assumed it would be for his own house. Now it made sense and Shane felt ashamed to think that Ryan wanted not only Shane’s opinion on the decorations but his acceptance to do all of this. If it were Steven, he would get angry, put some of the things away when he wasn’t looking, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

He caught Steven’s eye, he was sitting on the couch watching Ryan hang ornaments on the tree. He kept quiet, gritting his teeth when Shane walked over to Ryan. His back facing him, like when Shane saw him yesterday clocking out from his job.

Noticing that the top part of the tree had been void of ornaments, he closed the distance between his chest and Ryan’s back and takes the ornament from his hands. Ryan flinched, turning his body to stare at Shane with a startled look. Shane paid him no mind and placed the ornament next to a golden one, near the top of the tree where an angel proudly stood.

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to end up accidently hitting you,” Ryan warned cheerfully, his voice drowned out by the Christmas music in the background. He crouched down, walked under Shane’s arm, “do you want dinner? I made dinner.”

“You decided to turn my house into the holiday market,” Shane criticized, from this angle, he saw more decorations surrounding him.

The railing on his stairs were entangled with Christmas lights, a variation of white and blue. It’s loosely done, only halfway until a string of it swung back and forth. Steven must have gotten tired. In the end, the house looked glorious, it wasn’t anything the company’s interior designer could do.

No, better yet. _Ryan_ could do this with his eyes closed.

"Oh shit, you’re mad."

"Not mad, impressed,” he corrected, tucking out his collared shirt from his pants and dragged his feet towards the staircase. “You did this all by yourself?”

“I helped!” Steven chimed in, sitting on the couch like the bum he is.

“That’s what I said,” Shane turned his head over to Ryan, “do you want me to help you with the stairs?”

Ryan beamed at the half-assed compliment, “It would be nice of you to do that but wouldn't you want to eat first? I _made_ us dinner.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook,” Shane’s walking towards the kitchen anyway, his stomach agreed with him with every step. He knew that Ryan wasn’t the best cook, he’d offered for him before but all he managed to make was a distasteful mac and cheese combination with the wrong type of pasta.

Shane ate it with a smile, he didn’t have the heart to tell him it was horrible and he wanted to throw himself out of the window.

(He told him later. Ryan didn’t pout, he laughed and told him that he’d make it for him until he actually _would_ throw himself out of the window.)

“I can’t,” Ryan confessed, walking to his stove where a steaming pot of Ryan’s concoction sat. “I found your recipe book and you told me that you liked soup so… I made soup.”

“Soup.”

“Soup!” Ryan lifted the lid from the pot, steam flew out deliciously and the smell wasn’t that bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all.

Garlic was the main ingredient, he knew for sure, Ryan would have covered that poor soup with it, Shane didn’t disapprove and watched Ryan serve him. The soup was chicken noodle, hot to the touch and Shane devoured it within minutes. It was _really_ fucking good or he was indeed starving.

When he asked for seconds, Ryan smiled. He knew that he had won this time.

“I’ll teach you how to cook other things,” Shane took another spoonful of the scrumptious soup. “That recipe book is older than the both of us combined.”

A flip of his recipe book is the answer he gets, Ryan’s eyes skimmed the bleached pages, intrigued. It was a book given to him by the old duchess of Cambridge, she’d loved to visit the cook every chance she got and wrote his recipes down in an old journal given by her husband.

Shane loved the cook too, he made such delicacies that were impossible to copy in real life though he still kept it in his kitchen just in case he’d ever feel like becoming the next Iron Chef.

“What the hell were you doing in Cambridge?” Ryan asked him when he told him about it, “what the hell were they doing making chicken noodle soup?”

“It’s simplified recipes,” Shane revealed, “if I kept it in old English, we both wouldn’t ever encrypt it.”

“I know, you’re a shit literature major.”

“Hey now, must you insult me when I complimented your cooking?” Shane stood up, taking his bowl and Ryan’s in one go, he doesn’t wash them manually, he lets the water and sponge do that on their own.

It made Ryan turn his head suddenly, place the recipe book on the counter and seriously scolded Shane: “this is why you can’t have guests, you’d scare them to death.”

Shane found himself back where he first was when he entered his house a few minutes later, holding the string of Christmas lights in hand and leaning his elbow on the railing. He was messing with the lights, mostly keeping his eyes on Ryan as he finished the tree by himself. Steven, on the couch, told him to be careful everytime he would tip toe too close to the tree.

For a moment, it felt _different_. It wasn’t Shane and Steven alone anymore, it wasn’t Steven leaving for work as Shane came home _from_ work. It wasn’t missing each other every second and when they talked after a week, it wasn’t about happy times because Shane was sad for the majority of their conversations. Domestic, is the word?

“I got in trouble at work today,” Shane told them, more so to Steven than Ryan. He’d know what it meant right off the bat and teased him. “I lost a client and my boss yelled at little old me.”

“Oh no!” Steven mocked surprise, “what else is new? Did you get the client back?”

“Three minutes later, I did,” Shane raised his eyebrow, with his fingers tangled with the Christmas lights, he pointed at Steven. “A new record.”

“Why did they leave in the first place?” Ryan was the one to ask, “did you say something bad to them? _Shane_ , I told you, you have to have a good attitude at all times.”

“Ha ha,” Shane laughed dryly, “no, I’ll have you know they left because—”

_Because I was too busy thinking about you to cater to them. Because I can’t keep you out of my head no matter how hard I try. Because I think that I’m getting attached to you and I can’t tell you the reason why. Because I want to be your friend but I don’t want you to think of us that way._

“I forgot to return their calls. I was distracted because I was sleepy,” Shane shrugged and ignored Steven’s blank glare. It’s the truth to some extent and Shane would throw him out the window if he deemed him as a liar. Ryan didn’t press on said topic, thank god, he told him that he was an idiot for getting himself distracted.

He agreed, biting his tongue and unwilling to tell him that was his fault. _What happened to telling him the truth, Madej?_

Sighing, Shane jolted upright and pulled himself from the railing and to Ryan. He’s done, the last of the ornament in his hands and his goal was to hang it on the side of the tree’s top, without hesitation, Shane took it from him and placed it there himself. He had to stand on his toes to do so, why did Ryan think he could do it?

_Tell him, tell him now, tell him._

“Ryan—”

“I guess being freakishly height is useful after all.”

_Tell him_. “Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”

“But I could do it myself.”

_I know, that’s why I’m scared to let you go_.

“I know short-stacks,” Shane teased, watched as Ryan gaped at the nickname. His smile distracted him, the corner of Ryan’s eyes crinkled and he knew that he was fucked.

“Come here,” he extended his hand, “lets sit on the couch and recite _baby it’s cold outside_.”

“Do that and _I’ll_ turn all the faucets on.”

They didn’t recite it but Ryan did sit down with him. He talked about his day before he came to visit, where he did nothing all day alone at home and decided to pay Steven a visit and eat with lunch with him. He told him that he himself, went to the grocery store and picked up the ingredients for dinner and decorated his house. All in one day, because he was _bored_.

Shane knew it was because he was lonely.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew that Ryan’s aunt left him alone for the holidays without anything but a _clean the house, it’ll better be spotless by the time I return_ written by her. Unbeknownst to Ryan, Shane would invite him into his house with open arms, it was his home now whenever he felt like this.

(He didn’t tell him all that embarrassing shit, he just poked his cheek and asked him if he wanted to stay the night.)

“No, no,” Ryan rejected, hid his black hat under his hat, “I have work tomorrow and I can’t leave the house by itself, I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, right?”

“Maybe, come over after work.”

Ryan nodded and took his leave, Shane followed him outside. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I could take you home early in the morning.”

“Nah, this is easier. Sleep well, Shane,” Ryan refused again and waved behind him to Steven and walked away towards the gate. It wasn’t late but the thought of him walking home alone worried Shane.

Before he left, Shane told him to hold his zippo lighter in hand, opened and ready to use just in case he sensed danger. He didn’t need to extinguish it, just scream and he’d be there.

“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” Steven said, poking his own head out to see Ryan walk away towards the horizon, “I already got him a Christmas present, do you think we should invite him over?”

Shane nodded unconsciously, leaning on the doorway until he no longer saw Ryan’s back. “Yeah… wait, what did you just say?”

“Invite him? For Christmas.”

“Christmas. _Christmas._ ”

“Yes, Christmas,” Steven gave him a strange stare and whirled around over to the _Christmas_ light covered stairs, leaving Shane alone to clean everything up.

Christmas, Christmas with Ryan? What kind of cliché storyline was that? A supposed married couple celebrating Christmas together with the third wheel comic relief?

_That’s overwhelming,_ Shane thought, cleaning up his house without effort, boxes packing themselves, the radio turning off on it’s own, the pillows fluffed and thrown back in place. All but the pot with Ryan’s soup, that was Shane’s task to store himself into the fridge, he’d sent the pot to wash itself when it hit him.

Christmas _present._

He sprinted out of his kitchen, up the stairs, through the hallway and roughly swung Steven’s bedroom door. “What do I give Ryan for a Christmas present?”

“ _Jesus_!” Steven howled, jumping a foot high in his bed. “Is that why you were running? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You have to give presents at Christmas, what the _fuck_ do I give Ryan?”

“Fuck, how should I know?” Steven swore and gave him a dismissive wave, his hand gestured at the door and fell backward on his bed. He covered his eyes with his forearm, closing them and breathed shallowly. Though, Shane stood still, until he gave him a better answer.

“Shane—”

“Do you think he’d like an outfit? He’s always wearing that burgundy sweater… it got dirty recently.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

A silent moment, a longer pause afterwards where neither spoke. Shane turned his heel to his room, opening his closet and whizzed through the variety of clothing he had. Lots of flannel, lots of… collared shirts. Would Ryan like any of these? He had sweaters, too.

He gathered all of his sweaters, held them in his arms and ran back to Steven’s room.

“Look,” Shane tossed some of them on Steven, and others he pressed them on his chest. “Do you think they’re nice? They’re expensive, good material. Would they be too big on him?”

“What the fuck is going on, what the hell are you doing?” Is all Steven replied with, he picked up Shane’s sweaters on his bed and looked at them uninterestedly.

Clothes? Maybe not, especially if Shane had worn them before and Ryan could suffocate in them. He left the room again, ignoring Steven’s yells and curses directed at him.

Before he knows it, Steven’s still cursing at him and he’s holding a painting of the _Last Supper_ in his arms. It doesn’t fit through the door, so the edges of the frame hit Steven’s bedroom doorway.

“What about this?” He muttered anyway, holding it through the doorway so Steven could see. “It’s the original, I stole it and Ryan had been interested in this.”

“You _stole_ that?”

“Oh you’re right, he can’t have stolen items,” Shane rested the painting on the floor to stare at Steven. His expressions twisted and pissed off, sitting in his bed with Shane’s clothes sprawled around him, “do you think he likes music? I have everything from—”

“Stop this,” Steven begged, taking Shane’s sweaters and threw them at him, “I’m tired and I want to sleep. If you want my opinion, give him something special. It’s the thought that counts.”

Shane tried to hold his clothes in one arm and the large painting in the other, Steven’s kicking him out when he has nothing to say. “Okay, but does he like music?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Steven repeated impatiently, “he’d love anything you give him, haven’t you noticed him pining over you?”

“That’s not—” Some of Shane’s sweaters fall to the floor and he’s struggling to pick them up, “that’s not true.”

“You’re a mess,” Steven retorted, helping him pick up his sweaters. He hanged some of them on Shane’s shoulders and head, without looking back, he walked into his room. “Just be nice to him, I think that’s what he wants.” And closed the door behind him.

_Be nice to him_.

“Okay,” Shane began, muttering over his sweaters. “How do I do that?”

When he is offered no reply, Shane walked away to his room, maybe he’ll get him socks.

 

* * *

 

Days passed by and Los Angeles residents prepared themselves for an early winter. Sweaters and jackets sold like a light in every corner, no matter what outrageous price they had. Students began to flood the streets again, most of them heading home for the holidays or drinking with friends and family for weeks.

Ryan became accustomed to his new routine. He slept longer, woke up around noon on his days off or automatically sitting upright when he had to work at eight in the morning. His day usually consisted of working his ass off, taking to Kelsey and customers who had either a frown or a smile on their face, then Shane would visit him to take him out to eat and head other to his house and talk.

Steven would be there, he’ll join their conversations with ease. Ryan took a liking to Steven instantly, upon learning who he really was and how his remaining family kept him alone for the holidays, Ryan could relate.

He didn’t let it bother him for the next few days since they left on Sunday. He kept to himself about it, reaching out to somebody about his problems never helped him, no less the person listening.

Today, today his routine was shattered.

In the morning, he had been disrespectfully woken up by a ghost in his room. He sensed them at the crack at dawn, messing around with the curtains of his window before yanking them off with one clean swoop. Ryan knew he was hallucinating it, the ghost merely messed with his curtains by waving his transparent hand back and forth.

Nonetheless, it terrified Ryan to death. He couldn’t move or scream and he scrambled for the zippo lighter under his pillow when the ghostly figure turned around to stare at him. His eyes, sombre like the night sky, two soulless irises with no light in them, glaring straight at Ryan.

The ghost scowled at him before lifting himself off the floor and into Ryan on the bed. It had been the worst encounter he’s experienced, dread and melancholy engulfed him as if he were in flames. The fire raged on when he saw the man die, a man that he had served in Tasty before, a man that he once remembered would stumble into the bar, drunk off his ass.

He said nothing to Ryan when he manifested but in his head, he swore at him. He sat up on his bed later, the sun shining through the window pane. He was sweating profusely, his hair sticking to his forehead, he took one look at the clock and groaned. He was late.

When he got to Tasty, an hour and a half later, Kelsey was sitting on a booth talking to lovely women. Ryan himself didn’t look good at all, he had drank large amounts of water and had three spoonfuls of cereal in the shower, it didn’t help he still felt like the man was tearing him apart.

Kelsey saw it, but she didn’t have time to mention it when the woman next to her caught her attention. He tried to work his shift normally, serving his customers and cleaning the bar every hour. And Kelsey would try to ask him if he was okay, he’d smile wider if he heard her whisper it.

The answer was no, he still felt off. Loneliness was a main cause, the ghost was lonely and unpleasant and he blamed _Ryan_ for his death. Ryan wasn’t sure how it worked in the afterlife though, when you’re a ghost who cannot rest because of somebody, you may resent them all your life.

“It was a hit and run,” Ryan looked down as he explained it, he pressed his back to the cold storage room wall. Jen cornered him there when he was organizing supplies. “He followed me home from work. They hit him because he was in the middle of the street at night.”

“Was he planning to hurt you?” She asked, willing to let him walk out if he wanted to.

“I don’t know,” and he did, yanking the door open and straightened himself out.

Would it been better if he had? He doesn’t know either.

Time slowed when Ryan thought about things. His lunch break finally came by at two o’clock, whereas Shane would be greeting him at one fifty-nine.

Today, today was different. Shane didn’t show up, he texted him before two that he was stuck at work, talking to a client who didn’t want to leave unless he knew what he was in for. Ryan understood, texted back with a smile and an _i got it, see you later? :)_

The smiley face was too much, but Shane told him to head over to his house after work.

It was a simple conversation and Ryan wanted to expand and rant until he felt better. Though, he convinced himself that plaguing Shane with his problems _never_ helped and it only rendered him annoying.

He understood why Shane wanted to leave after he met him, who wouldn’t? The blade itself was the only thing drawing them together and when Ryan lifted said curse, Shane would leave him in a heartbeat.

He would be prettier than he is now, he would finally do things without being sad or in pain. Maybe he’ll go to New Orleans.

As soon as the clock above him marked three in the afternoon, Ryan kept his eye on the door, waiting for Steven to come in and relieved him with a story of Shane’s grouchy self in the morning.

But since today was the first day of winter and everyone was against him, Steven didn’t show up and instead it was Kelsey herself telling him that he had called in sick and he’d have to stay a little longer for his co-workers to arrive.

_A little longer meant four more hours_ , needless to say, Ryan was painfully, mentally and physically exhausted. His heart told him to go home and rest. Still, Shane checked on him an hour and a half ago to make sure he was _still_ at work and not on his way there being kidnapped or dead.

When it was time for him to leave, he headed towards the direction of Shane’s neighborhood, he knew it by heart now, he would walk to him with his eyes closed.

(And he tried, Shane told him to stop doing that because cars wouldn’t slow down even if somebody is on the street.)

Doesn’t he know it. And _again_ , as the world hated Ryan, the ghost that appeared to him last night followed closely behind. His legs never reached the ground, no doubt they had been broken when he died, he was bloody, the only indication that he died recently.

Ryan picked up his pace, jogged around the street. He tried to pull out his mother’s scarf from his bag when he came to a stop in front of Shane’s street. He didn’t care if he was sweating, he wanted to wear it because it would protect him from—

It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere in his bag nor on his body. The familiar red cotton never showed up among his uniform clothes and he certainly wanted to cry. Without hesitation, he turned his heel over to the direction of his house.

Ryan didn’t scream, no, the scream was lodged in the back of his throat, threatening to release itself and warn Shane and the children around him that a blood-stained, damaged ghost was behind him, nearly touching him and staring at him with darkened eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan choked out, he was, he was sorry, he was sorry and he’ll scream if he tried to touch him. He didn’t say a word to him but floated closer, his chest to Ryan’s and that same emotion, _dread_ , overcame him immediately.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he stumbled, he was going to pass out looking at this ghost. He ran towards the direction of Shane’s house and the ghost didn’t follow. He looked back once, he stood there among the children like a statue, his white eyes fixed on Ryan.

He made it through Shane’s gate, knowing that if the ghost had a death wish, he’ll step on his property with full intention on causing Ryan to pass out.

He _breathed_ easier when he was near Shane, he was sad, his muscles ached and he wanted to sit down and watch something with him. Maybe he had left his scarf here? It could be, he visited every other day and would hang his scarf next to Shane’s coat.

(It made it look domestic, like he actually lived there.)

When he walked in, using the spare key Shane gave him (for emergencies,) he regained his thoughts and forced a smile on his face.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, placing his bag on the ground and taking off his shoes.

“What’s for dinner?” He added, scratching his neck and walking towards the living room.

He knew what he expected to see, Steven maybe, lounging on the couch watching nothing in particular or Shane, walking out from his office to greet him with an insult. The last thing on his mind, was to be greeted by them _both_ with a cake nestled in Shane’s hands.

Ryan saw the cake first, obviously, it stuck out like a sore thumb. It must have been vanilla, thoughtfully decorated with strawberries and raspberries. There was a sole candle in the middle of the candle, revealing the words written with red icing.

“Welcome home,” Shane echoed the words on the cake.

Speechless, Ryan blinked twice before opening his mouth, no words come out for a while and both Steven and Shane continued to stare at him with a smile. Steven’s leaning on Shane the way one would for their wedding photos and Ryan, he was the appalled photographer wondering why the happy couple brought a cake.

“What… the hell is all this?” He drawled, making sure that he hasn’t actually passed out, hit his head, died and this was his afterlife. An eternity with Shane and Steven and _cake._

“This? Is the mess you made at my house a few days ago,” Shane replied, looking behind his shoulder to the Christmas tree.

“No, no,” Ryan ignored him and the petty insult directed as his handiwork. “That. What is that?” He jerked his finger at the cake as if it offended him.

“This is a cake,” Shane answered casually, amazed by Ryan’s confusion. “I remember you having one when I first met you.”

“Why is there a cake here?”

“It’s an ice cream cake,” Steven beamed, excited over such little things like a cake. _Sorry_ , an ice cream cake. “I wasn’t sure if you liked vanilla but who doesn’t?”

“I loathe vanilla,” Ryan joked, no hint of amusement in his smile to tease Steven further. It doesn’t work, Steven shrugged loosely.

“What are we celebrating?” Ryan wanted to hear it from them, he didn’t want to assume it was for him. Paranoid, he made sure nobody else is behind him, anybody who were to accept the cake.

“Good lord,” Shane then growled out, shoving the cake further to Ryan’s chest. “Your thoughts are exquitevely loud, you’ll give me a headache at this point. The cake is for you, sweetie pie.”

“For…” Him?

Ryan stared at Shane and over to cake, at this angle, he saw _Welcome Home, Ryan._

“Home?”

“It was my idea,” Steven confessed, “he paid for it. And I fucked it up because you _hate_ vanilla.” Ryan doesn’t have the heart to tell him he was joking, “I called Kelsey earlier, she said that you didn’t eat, so… instead of making Shane worry, I told him to give me money to buy myself medicine and you a _cake_!”

“It’s… a cake… for me.”

“Yes,” Shane handed the cake over to Steven, turning his back to Ryan for a second before returning with his red scarf in his hand. Ryan tried not to run to it immediately, he knew that Shane had taken a liking to wrapping it around his neck now. “You forgot this last night, I’m sure it missed you too.”

Shane wrapped his mother’s scarf around his neck, over and over until his mouth is covered. Tears gathered in Ryan’s eyes, his lashed fluttered at Shane and the cake. He… he was never given had a cake before, not since his mother died or the last time his aunt celebrated his birthday. Nobody… ever bought him a—

Sometimes when Ryan was sad or when he wanted to cry, all his previous emotions piled up on him and blasted through the dam that he built inside. It would only take one particular thing to crack it, flooding Ryan’s mind with sad thoughts and he’ll bawl for _hours_ on end.

In this case, Shane broke through the dam with his own sledgehammer—he did it with a smile. Without notice, Ryan bursted into tears in front of them. Ashamed, he lowered his head and sobbed, shut his eyes tightly as tears flew through his flushed cheeks and onto his scarf.

Today was bizarre and sometimes, Ryan wanted to let it all out at once. He cried until his throat became dry, his heart heavy with emotions that he hadn’t felt since his mother died.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Shane’s voice made him chuckle, his tears flowing out as he loosened his scarf around his neck so it’s hanging on his shoulders. With his mouth free, he looked up to see Shane furrowing his eyebrows at him, such a stupid expression, it never failed to make him laugh.

Albeit sad, today marked the day that Ryan cried because he was happy.

“I’m just happy, these are happy tears.”

“It sure seems like it,” Shane lifted his thumb to wipe one of Ryan’s tears from his cheek, “didn’t Steven say it was an ice cream cake? It’s going to melt if you don’t make a wish.”

“I’m _happy_ , give me a second man,” Ryan cleared his throat, sniffing out the tears that had fallen into his nostrils and reached for the pocket of his denim jacket.

He lit the candle with his zippo lighter, “just because I’m happy. I had a difficult time today, _so_ , I’ll be happier going anywhere with you, I would love to see a movie through, a thriller maybe? I’m craving popcorn.”

Ryan looked at Shane hopefully, he’s hiding a smile under his own blazer and when he’s caught staring, he turned his head and coughed. As Shane’s looking away, Ryan took it as his cue to blow on the candle, he missed Shane sudden shriek to _stop_ and soon enough, the flame is gone.

Shane appeared behind him this time, shutting his eyes closed to fight off the growing headache. Ryan turned around with a softer grin, “sorry, I forgot.”

“What the hell? Why are you over there?” Steven gaped, still unknowingly holding the cake.

“It’s a thing we do, don’t think about it too much. Also, how could _you_ forget?” Shane clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval at Ryan, “eat a piece of the cake, I’m going to change.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch a movie? Come on, _eat_ , vanilla is actually pretty good.” With that, Shane sprinted up the stairs, while Ryan kept Steven company.

“Why did he teleport like that?” Steven’s curiosity never failed to amuse him, he knew he would never get an answer from Shane, but Ryan he _would._ He took a spoonful of his cake, happily eating on the kitchen counter.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, flipping over his scarf so it wouldn’t get icing on it. Cleaning it was tricky and Ryan would succumb to another set of tears if it got dirty. “Guess he loves to do that.”

“The both of you tire me, _exhaust_ me.”

When Ryan opened his mouth to reply with another joke, Shane walked in, freshly shaven, wearing his _own_ denim jacket and Ryan’s watch latched to his wrist. “Get used to it,” he threw his keys on the counter, “ready to go?”

The question is directed to Ryan and he some sort of guilt leaving a sick Steven behind, who isn’t allowed to eat anything but soup and drink water. “We’ll get you something!”

“A souvenir? Get me a stuffed animal, Shane knows what I’m talking about.”

“What _is_ he talking about?” Ryan led Shane to the front door, Shane took his hand in his and they both stepped out together. He isn’t dizzy or nauseous this time, though the confusion lingered in the back of his mind, he’s growing to hate teleportation everytime they do it.

They end up inside of the movie theater, Ryan has never been to one personally, but he knew the gist of one. It’s dark inside, you could barely notice the difference if you stepped inside when it was dark out, dim lights hang from the ceiling, televisions all around playing a football game, an arcade where parents could leave their kids at for hours on end and the sweet, sweet, smell of popcorn.

“There’s a toy he’s been trying to get, he never could.”

“And you can?”

“Of course!” Shane blurted out, appalled by Ryan just _asking_.

“Well… why haven’t you?”

Shane grew quiet, a muscle in his jaw twitched as he glared at the arcade area, would it be packed now that kids were out of school? Is that why he’s pondering about going in there during this time of the season?

“Okay, _okay_ , it’s _hard_ , it… it makes no sense! Who thought of the idea of a machine filled with toys and a _claw_ picking them up? I know who, I can tell you who, I worked with him and all I wanted to do was ask him why he loved to torture kids.”

Ryan laughed, loved to watch as Shane stared down a kid who lost at the claw machine and stomped frenziedly to their mother. As if proving his point, Shane lifted his hand but Ryan took it back into his. They have been holding hands quite a lot right now, when they first entered the movie theater, Shane didn’t let go of his hand until Ryan started to laugh at him.

“Don’t release the toys from the machine, you’ll traumatize the children.”

“They don't care, they _want_ the toys to be free.”

“Do you have a dollar? Maybe I could do it.”

“No, I’m not letting you waste your money on _that_ ,” Shane snarled and glared at the machine as if it was his enemy in his past life. “I’m not evil, you will not fall for his demonic tricks.”

“You’re dramatic,” Ryan walked to the claw machine, sounds of children screaming and other games blasted around him. He took out the only dollar he had for the bus home, “which toy does Steven want?”

“Why did you ask me for a dollar when you already had one?”

“It’s for the bus back home, what toy is it, Shane?”

“Oh, no,” Shane ripped the dollar from Ryan’s hand and held it above his head, “no, _no_ , you’re _not_ wasting your valuable bus money on the devil’s work.”

“Steven is sick! He deserves the company of a friendly toy. Which one is it?”

Shane caved in, his mouth set in a thin line and he pointed to the machine, “he just wants a bear, listen, use my dollar, you still have to find a way back home. I’m walking with you tonight, however, It is important to have money on you at all times.”

“Wow,” Ryan drawled unintendedly, taking Shane’s dollar with a roll of his eyes. “I didn’t know you’d get like this over a claw machine.”

“It’s the devil’s work, Ryan. The man is a fucking criminal.”

Shane watched as Ryan pressed the buttons on the machine, he knew that he must have sat here for hours playing it, he probably knows them by heart—but Ryan has his tricks and knew how to outsmart people, ghosts and machines.

“If you get this, I will sign you up as my beneficiary because I’ll kill the man who made this specific machine in cold blood, I’ll be in jail but you’ll get my money.”

“That’s oddly specific and not true,” Ryan’s going for a bear with a red hat and a green shirt, Steven would love that, it looks soft and cuddly when he knew it must be the cheapest thing he’s ever seen. “What happens if I don’t get it?”

“I’ll kiss you.”

Ryan got the bear.

Despite him blushing to high heaven, Ryan got it in his first try. They both watched it fall onto the entrance of the _pick up here_ in shared silence. Ryan has a unanticipated headache and Shane swore at the machine, took the bear and strangled it.

“I want to watch a thriller,” Ryan indicated, taking the bear from his big ass hands, “I’m hungry and I want to sit down. Don’t threaten to kiss me again or _I’ll_ be the one to sign myself as your beneficiary as I kill you in cold blood.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Shane mocked, his eye twitching as he’s being pulled away from the machine, “we can run away together, sign Steven as our beneficiary, our son.”

They _do_ end up watching a thriller, a movie centered around zombies and romance, Shane doesn’t get it but told Ryan if he were turning into a zombie, he would want him to end his misery. Ryan agreed. (Though, he also agreed to even when he wasn’t turning into a zombie.)

“The idea of dead people walking around eating other people is so stupid, whoever came up with that shit, it’s stupid and I want it gone.”

Ryan giggled, inched closer to Shane as they walked, their leftover popcorn bag in his hand. It was his dinner and he wasn’t sure if he should have left it there for somebody to pick up.

(Shane told him to but after sitting there after the credits arguing for five minutes and accidently watching a post-movie scene that hinted at a sequel; Ryan just took it into his arms and ran out of there before Shane could start to rant again.)

“I see ghosts, you’re a deity, anything is possible.”

“No, baby,” Shane ran his hands over his face. “That is _not_ possible, the dead don’t return and eat people. No human has supernatural powers, only souls. Though, vampires _were_ real once.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“I should have known, I would have guessed that you met a vampire.”

“I have been to Transylvania many times,” Shane gave him a once-over, “I got bored there, everyone acted like they were the vampires. I… was tired hearing about it.”

Ryan giggled again, clutching his bag closer and took another mouthful of popcorn. He noticed that Shane took them around the longer route to his house, not that he’s complaining, he liked talking to Shane… almost too much.

After what happened this morning, Ryan’s mood increased tenfold, he knew it would happen but after experiencing what he did, he couldn’t help but think that he would never be happy again.

Shane proved him wrong and because of that, he trusted him. As if reading his mind (as he would,) Shane turned his head to look at Ryan with a serious look in his eye. “Did you see something today?”

Ryan doesn’t want to say it out loud, it would make the entire situation _real_ , like it did happen and it would forever be in Ryan’s head. So he doesn’t.

He messed with the loose threads of his mother’s scarf, _yes I did_ , he thought. Hopefully it would be loud enough for Shane to hear. _How did you know? Are you always in my head?_

“No,” Shane answered in the dead of night, “I’m not. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. But I felt them by my house. If I see them again, I would disintegrate them.”

Ryan nodded, though his mind replied with: _don’t do that, you’ll be killing somebody’s soul for me._

“It wouldn’t be for you,” Shane truthfully piped in, clearing out the air that _no_ , he would not avenge Ryan’s fear unless he asked him to, whereas then, he would in a heartbeat. “It would be for _me_ , all that negative energy isn’t good for me and it makes Steven moody and sick.”

“Oh shit,” Ryan muttered, lifting his head up, he didn’t realize that he was looking at the pavement all this time. “Is that why he’s sick?”

“Yes, don’t tell him, I want to keep him away from all supernatural beings that aren’t _me_ ,” Shane screwed up his face, “scratch that, I don’t want to categorize myself as a supernatural being.”

“Was that ghost there all day? How could they—”

“I don’t know, I woke up and the energy _was_ there. I knew it was a ghost when Steven came to me crying because of his throbbing headache.”

“Shane, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Shane dismissed his apology, waving his hand over and reaching for the popcorn in the bag, “you didn’t do anything, It’s not your fault you can see ghosts.”

“Then the fault lies on the man who saved my mother and I,” Ryan bobbed his head, the street sign to his neighborhood appeared before him in the slight fog. “He must be powerful enough to give this power to me.”

“Someone saved you?” Shane asked, chewing on a mouthful of popcorn.

“My mother told me about a man who healed her when she was hit by a car, she was pregnant with me at the time,” Ryan disclosed, he’s never told anybody this before, Shane would be the first to hear about it. Though, it would be strange to tell another human being—who doesn’t know that supernatural beings exist—such a thing.

“We both lived, she went into premature labor with me and told me that the hospital's nurses were surprised that I was breathing on my own at twenty-three weeks. They believed that I wouldn’t have survived outside of my mother’s womb. They said I was glowing too, they were afraid I was exposed to radiation or _something_ , but I was just glowing for months, later to years.”

Shane hummed, “it never stopped.”

Ryan looked up at him, they’re in front of his gate now. Exhaustion hitting him like a truck and his body did nothing but ask him to enter his house and sleep. Shane’s comment though... regardless of what Ryan didn’t want, he ended up speechless as Shane took his cheeks in his hands.

For a moment, he thought he would kiss him and if that were the case, Ryan would run inside as quickly as he could and avoid him from doing it again. Instead Shane cradled his head, caressing his fingers under his cheekbones. He looked… upset, gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen.

“Goodnight Ryan,” He finally said, letting Ryan go. His touch is immediately missed, the irrational part of Ryan’s mind begged him to be touched again—he marked it down as being touch-starved and opened the gate to his aunt’s house. When he entered his room, Shane's gone and his heart lighter than it was this morning.

 

* * *

 

Sundays at work were a bit less crowded and carefree. Customers who had been hungover from the day before would return, ordering soup or to just willow in their pity.

Ryan didn’t often work on Sundays, last time he did, he couldn’t handle all the men and women surrounding him with throbbing headaches.

Sundays also meant Steven and Kelsey took over both morning and evening shifts; sometimes closing the restaurant at four in the afternoon if they wanted. Ryan had only been there for them to mess with, he sat for _hours_ with a man Kelsey knew. The affectionate man came off as too strong for Ryan to handle his flirting and couldn’t stop blushing until Steven saved him.

Apart from indirectly avoiding Kelsey asking him about sex positions that he knew, hungover customers falling off their seats and a clingy stuffy Steven, he had another problem in hand.

If—and _if—_ he got Shane a Christmas present, would give it to him after or before Christmas?

Ryan wouldn’t have worried about that. Except, Steven invited him over for Christmas.

“What do I get Shane for Christmas?”

“Oh, my god,” Steven groaned. “Not you too, are you serious?”

“You know him better than I do,” Ryan sat on the bar’s booth, Kelsey sitting next to him, elbow lifted to rest her head up tiredly with her hand. “Has he mentioned anything he wants in particular?”

“An Armani suit,” Steven quipped seamlessly, “if you can, a Ferrari to match.”

“Every time you both mention him, I add points to his handsomeness,” Kelsey commented out of nowhere, she now messed with the peanuts they had on the counter.

“Lower your standards,” Steven told her, then turned to Ryan. “I don’t know what he wants, he hadn’t told me either. Whatever I buy him, he tells me to return it.”

“He’s rude? Ooooh.”

“Why?” Ryan cocked his head as if the mystery as to _why_ Shane would tell Steven to return the gift he bought couldn’t ever be solved. “Nevermind, he hates us spending money on him.”

“And rich!?” Kelsey roared, she drummed both hands on the counter enthusiastically.

Steven snorted, he gave the customer next to them a glass of water, their own forehead glued the counter as they raised their hand as thanks. “If you to get him to sleep with you, it will be the same day pigs would fly.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Kelsey stuck out her bottom lip and glared at Steven, “I’m not the one infatuated with Ryan. I need those fifty dollars.”

“Please don’t tell me you both bet _money_ on us.”

Kelsey and Steven looked away, no hint of guilt in his faces and Ryan pounded his forehead on the counter, mimicking the customer beside him. He regretted asking Shane to come with him, Kelsey would eat him alive and Steven would surely get him drunk by five.

“I’m doomed, I don’t even have a present for him! Kelsey does and she hasn’t met him!”

“They say that it’s harder to find a present for people you love,” Steven, not helping, teased him and Kelsey cooed.

“That’s so cute, you might as well get him a wedding ring and declare your love for him.”

“No,” Ryan drawled, “he’s my friend.”

“We know,” Kelsey rose from her seat, smoothed down her jacket and practically lifted herself on top of the bar counter to grab her bag. “Steven, clock me out. I have to leave.”

“Where are you heading?” Steven asked as he did what she told him to do, swore when tinsel around the clock out machine tickled him.

“Home? Then to Miami for Christmas, I’m going to sunbathe there for the holidays,” she explained over the sound of her jiggling the restaurant's keys in Steven’s face, she kissed Steven’s cheek and Ryan’s. “Merry Christmas, boys, don’t come in until Friday!”

“Friday?!” Ryan blurted out, now he really won’t have anything to do for days.

“Yeah, long enough for you to buy your beloved a present, I suggest something old and something the both of you could laugh about when _you’re_ old and watching your grandchildren play in the front yard.”

“I think you and Shane would get along,” Ryan grinned sullenly, “you both come up with unrealistic scenarios.”

“I would get along with him? You think so?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked out of Tasty’s front door. That was the only thing she heard?

“Do you want to come over today? I think we’re having take-out, Shane’s working late.”

Shane mentioned that he had been working harder to take longer days off, mostly because he had missed a subsequent amount of days and he was on his last warning before losing his job. Ryan didn’t know why he was worried for, the man was a deity, he had _gold_.

“No… I have to get home… and I have to find him a present. I don't have that long.”

“You want my advice?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked _you_.”

Steven grinned, his impish self showing in his eyes, “It’s the thought that counts.”

“That doesn’t help,” Steven took his washcloth, stacked the empty beer and wine glasses on the counter and finished sweeping around their winter wonderland of a restaurant.

A half an hour earlier than four, they closed the restaurant for the week and go their separate ways. It's been awhile where Ryan was left alone in the daytime, Shane had been with him time and time again so, with his absence, that usually meant that he wasn’t going to be completely alone.

“Do you want _my_ advice on this?”

“You were quiet for a long time, I’ll listen to you.”

Jen was at the restaurant today, she had been sprawled over a booth and kept quiet just in case Ryan wouldn’t slip up and reply to her. It’s not rare that she does this, most of the time when Kelsey fascinated her, she’d follow her around an entire morning until Ryan would glare at her in an effort to leave his coworkers alone. Jen took a liking to Steven too and would _also_ follow him around, freezing his ass off unintentionally.

They’re not alone this time but walking around Los Angeles talking to yourself didn’t cast you any peculiar looks from people who had seen worse.

“I don’t stalk you, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring, you don’t have to lie to me, I know that you do.”

“I _don’t_ stalk you,” Jen repeated sternly, she jammed both of her transparent hands inside of her equally see-through pant pockets. Ryan could see through the pockets, where her fingers are clenched to gather as much warmth as she can. Hm. “I’ve seen you look at paintings, I think you’ve taken a liking to it.”

His eyebrows rose, “you want me to paint him something?”

“Not paint, _buy_.”

It’s not a bad idea, most of the stories Shane told him were of artists he’d met (or never did but admired anyway.) It was kind of their thing, Shane would show off a mirrored painting out of nowhere and tell Ryan about it until he himself googled a painting and told him all about it too.

Shane had a passion for art and history and if Ryan bought him a painting or a sculpture, he’d be very happy. (And talk to him about it for hours on end.) Win-win.

“Good point,” he praised and Jen beamed like a lightbulb. “It’s on my list here,” he pointed to his forehead, “but where do I get something like that at short notice?”

Jen’s mouth fell open and she glowered at him, a look that she would give him when he asked obvious questions.

“You live in L.A, there’s family-owned businesses everywhere, let’s find one!” She tried to grab onto his hand but failed and it fazed right through him leaving him stranded pathetically as she floated away with her arm extended.

Realizing that she hasn’t caught on, he jogged after her.

When Jen mentioned that there were family-owned businesses, she wasn’t kidding. They were located in every corner, all of them open and accepting tourist's money for the holidays. Here, Ryan couldn’t utter a word to Jen in fear that someone would call the police on him by said tourists.

A store caught his eye, squished beside a restaurant and a fortune teller’s shop.

(“Go in there and surprise them, they know about the goblin and his beloved.”

“Be quiet, Jen.”)

It was the oldest store he’s been in, a shop with old-fashioned brown brick walls, antiques arranged on shelves or boxes with thousands of figurines. Kelsey’s mom must have been here before.

Nothing screamed _Shane_ more than history, ancient lucky charms or gifts from the Emperor himself. This store was perfect for him.

“Hello, hello!” A loud bang resonated through the empty shop, when Ryan whirled around, there’s a clutter of pots and pans on the old pavement and a man stepping over them to greet Ryan. He extended his hand, “welcome!”

The man was around his height though a lot buffer than him, black dreads pulled back in a ponytail and strands of it loosely fell into his face. His dark skin beautifully void of blemishes and brown eyes gleamed at him. “Hello, are you the owner?”

“No, nah _,_ that’s my dad. I just work here.”

Ryan nodded, behind him, Jen gaped at the gorgeous man. “Wow, forget your husband, I’ve never seen a more beautiful man.”

“I suppose you sell paintings here?” Ryan guessed and followed the man, ignoring Jen drooling on his shoulder. The man scratched his nose in thought, before turning away from Ryan and over the pots and pans again.

“Probably!” He called out from across the store and Ryan followed the sound of his voice, careful to avoid scattered treasures. When he turned the corner, he saw a collection of frames stacked side by side. The man himself standing next to them with a grin, leaning his arm on them. “Depends on what you’re looking for?”

He does. “Anything from van Gogh?”

The man waved him over, gestured to him to check for himself. With Jen behind him, he skimmed through the paintings, looking at each one with ease, brushing his fingers on the frames to check their authenticity and concentrating on the colors that Shane would like.

Blue. Blue. Something blue.

A bell echoed through the store and took Ryan’s mind away from the task at hand. The man excused himself politely to check on his customers with a loud greeting and another loud bang of fallen pots and pans.

“You have to take that man home,” Jen suggested when he returned to the paintings, he doesn’t reply to her but smiled to himself. Shane would like that definitely, maybe he’d ask to visit his store and talk about the antiques he has. (“Those pots? They’re french.”)

“I don’t find the appeal to paintings,” Jen began again, this time she’s not leaning on him but on the counter where the paintings were stacked. Ryan continued to look though, one by one until he’s found the one that would call out for him. “Art is confusing, it’s just colors on a—whoa, are you okay?”

Ryan’s fingers stopped skimming through the paintings when he _sees_ it. He saw New Orleans in it, he saw the first time he saw Shane’s house in it, he saw _Shane_ in it. That was the one, it was blue and he was taking it. He picked it up gently as it were a child, framed with wood that reeked of oil and falling apart at the stitches, it was perfect.

“I found it.”

“You did?” The man from before came around, looking at the painting by Ryan’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah, that’s a beauty. I’ll ring you up.”

Ryan grinned, turning his head with the painting clutched in his fingers. “Do you gift wrap?”

 

* * *

 

On Christmas eve, Ryan woke up in the morning to prepare his breakfast, oatmeal and bananas, the way his mother loved. He spent his day doing laundry, trying to distract himself from the endless tears he’s about to hold back—right when he visited his mother’s grave at the cemetery.

Her present was always the same, flowers and a necklace that she never could wear. He would get her pearls and every year had to pick it up from the funeral house, the security guard would take it there just in case it would get lost. He had over seventeen of them now, all in a box with her name on it.

“Hey mom,” Ryan placed her gifts before her. It was hard to talk to her on Christmas day so, he does it on the day before, where he knew that she would tell him that’s the better way to celebrate the holiday.

He isn’t sure how long he sat there, time passed idly when he’s talking to her, telling her stories about himself and school and his favorite new topic, Shane. When he spoke of him to her, he felt outlandish, feeling cold all of a sudden and a tug in his heart.

Was it her way of telling him that she was listening? He didn’t know, she’s never manifested before him.

The sun began to set when he took his leave, wished her a Merry Christmas and picked Shane’s gift up, holding it under his arm safely. He did not cry, he did not make a scene, not when Shane’s present was under his arm or from his mother’s phantom presence, he felt relief.

Ryan walked all the way to Shane’s house carrying his massive present. Stores around him were closing, last minute Christmas shoppers stumbled around with their own bags, tourists took pictures in Los Angeles’ lively sunsets and Ryan walked with his so-called betrothed's gift in his arm.

“I would help you but I don’t have disposable thumbs.”

“It’s opposable,” Ryan corrected Jen, she’s beside him too. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone. “And you don’t have to, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, I figured. This _is_ my stop.”

Ryan paused on the street that Shane lived on and turned to Jen. She’s giving him a smile, her transparent teeth would poke out and the corner of her lips stretch to an inhumanly distance. “Do you want to come too? I can convince Shane—”

“Oh! No!” Jen cut him off, her smile faded and held up her palms. “Maycie and I are going to be together, it’s no biggie. You go have fun, okay?”

Yet, Ryan doesn’t move, his eyes narrowed at the setting sun and to the street sign behind him. Shane is too close, _too_ close for his comfort right now.

“I’m getting cold feet.”

“Ryan, _please._ ”

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

“I already told you he would,” she reassured, her eyebrows furrowed as she lifted her hand to slap his shoulder. A chilly sensation circulated through him and spread around his body as she nervously laughed. “Don’t worry about it, just give it to him!”

“I’m… afraid.”

“Don’t be,” she urged, cooing at the tone of his voice. “You can’t get cold feet now, imagine how bad it’d be at your actual wedding?”

The feeling literally disappeared, his confidence returned as he looped around and entered Shane’s street. “I’m over it. Merry Christmas, Jen!”

“Merry Christmas, Ryan!”

Surely, he’s not easy to fool or to manipulate but he had to get away from Jen before she saw how red he’s gotten. He knocked on the door of Shane’s mansion, Steven gaped at him and asked him if he was cold. He internally groaned, did her comment leave him that flustered?

“No,” he replied sternly. “My arm is tired though.”

“I bet,” Steven stepped back to let him inside, the house smelled of turkey and pine, the radio he found in Shane’s basement blasting old Christmas tunes like no tomorrow.

He hadn’t realized that he felt a twinge of nostalgia listening to _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ at full volume as his mother tried to stuff a turkey. “What the hell are you carrying?”

“Your dumb uncle’s present.”

Despite of his comment, Ryan placed his present gently on the tree, next to a variety of presents under them. All of them wrapped in fine gold and white paper, with patterns of tinsel all around. It was going to take weeks, months for him to forget about tinsel and it’s remarkable abilities to send someone to an asylum.

“Ah, _my_ uncle’s present, don’t you want to know where he is?”

“I smell hot chocolate, can I have some?”

“He’s upstairs, just in case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t, not really. Ryan took the decorative mug from Steven’s hands, it’s warm in his fingers, keeping him cozy, ready to stare at the fire and watch whatever nonsense on Shane’s flat screen television.

“Nah,” Ryan politely sat on the couch, taking a sip of his deliciously made hot cocoa. He decided to pay attention to the television when he heard stomps come down the stairs. “Here comes bigfoot, my relaxation time is over.”

“It just begun, baby, what are you talking about?” Shane looked, in other words, handsome. It hadn’t been that long since he’s seen him but every time he does, he’ll come up with a brand new excuse to grow a stubble.

(“It’s the stress you give me, baby.” “I’m warmer like that.” “Kiss me and find out why it’s better.”) (Shane was cursed out because of that last one.)

The urge to swear at him was there, with his stupid checkered red flannel and his stupid wrist with Ryan’s watch on it. He wore it _every time_ he wanted something from Ryan or when he wanted to see him squirm with embarrassment at the thought of little ol’ him going to the store and buying him a watch.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Shane grinned, walking past a confused Steven. “It hasn’t been a month.”

Right, he forgot. Bigfoot reads minds. “Get out of my head."

“Stop calling me bigfoot.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.”

Shane gasped, faltering in his steps to the couch and turned to Steven. “He’s _learning!_ Quick, open the oven, we have to take him out before he does it first!”

“I’m not doing that,” Steven said softly, almost as if he were offended at hurting Ryan intentionally. “The turkey is done already, I’m hungry. Are you hungry, Ryan?”

“He’s too powerful, you can’t ask him things too casually— _come_ back here, I have some words for you!”

As much as Ryan wanted to wring Shane’s neck, he had a substantial amount of fun with them both. Dinner was delicious, Shane followed the old recipe book from Cambridge, (well, he only put it in the oven, Steven did almost everything else.)

They joked as they ate, telling stories of their past Christmases with each other, (one of them where Shane literally brought in a famous philosopher for dinner when Steven was eight, who hated Shane’s guts.)

“I don’t know why everyone is mean to me, I am an angel to them.”

“He hated you because you insulted his book during _dinner._ ”

They bickered yet, it left Ryan awfully curious. “Did they celebrate Christmas in the Renaissance, or in Australia, or in—”

“Woah, hey now,” Shane threw his hands up in the air, “don’t talk with your mouth full, you might choke. Yes, they celebrated many holidays for the hell of it back then, you should have seen it.”

“I’ll take your word for it, I don’t think dying from plague is a lot of fun.”

“Not when your too busy drinking all night and day. Gin, man, that was something else.”

“I gave him a bottle of gin last Christmas,” Steven chimed in, poking at his food with no interest of eating another bite. Ryan knew what that felt like, his own stomach cried for help. “You drank most of it in one go.”

“Shane!”

“What! When I love a gift, I drink it, eat it or hug it until I _die_!” Shane took a bite of ham, chewing it obviously as if to prove his point.

“Uh, huh.”

If that were true…

“Can I give you my present now? It cost me a nickel and a half and I’m sure my arm has more muscle than I know what to do with.”

“You already have more muscle than you know what to do with,” Shane told him, wiping his mouth with his napkin and sitting back on his dining table chair. “Go get it, little guy. Amaze me.”

In the back of Ryan’s mind, _deep, deep_ in there, where he kept the stuff and thoughts that he didn’t want Shane to hear, he was eager and nervous to give it to him. He dug himself this hole, dug it until he reached bedrock and he had no choice by jump in and go for it.

Ryan leaped from his chair, nearly knocking it over as he went over to the tree and took his present in his hands. He stood there holding it where he knew it hung right side up. Shane crossed his arms behind his head and looked over to Ryan with a crease in his forehead, he narrowed his eyes at the badly gift wrapped present before standing up himself.

“What’s this?”

“A present.”

“You—” Shane didn’t dare touch it, his fingers fiddled with the side of the paper, where part of it had ripped. “I have to remind myself that you aren’t always playing around. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, as thanks.”

“You already thanked me,” Shane lifted up his arm, the one where Ryan’s watch engulfed his wrist. “Twice,” he gestured at his living room, where the Christmas decorations hung, all Ryan’s work.

“Someone told me that it’s the thought that counts,” Ryan started, cringed at how cheesy he must have sounded, “I thought extremely hard and I found it. I thought it would make you happy one last time before the year ended.” He shoved his gift to Shane’s side, Shane’s eyes weren’t on it but _him_ , aghast at what he had been told.

Before long, Shane took the present from him, his hands brush against Ryan’s as he took it. For a moment, he didn’t move, then tried to open it as carefully as he could.

“Just rip it all out, you don’t have to be precise.”

“He took his time wrapping it,” Shane pointed out, breathing it out as he continued to unwrap his present. “The least I can do is—”

Then, it was like time stopped and Ryan was still in motion. There was no agony, there was no emotion, it was just Shane taking his time to process what he was looking at and Ryan watched on the sidelines. He didn’t want to smile, but from the shocked expression Shane had, he knew that he would be praised to high heaven.

“It’s a replica of _Starry Night_ ,” Ryan revealed, walking over and looked at the painting too. Van Gogh’s _Starry Night_ was one of Shane’s favorites, he mentioned it before one day at lunch, where he was thinking of redecorating his entire room in the theme of _Starry Night._ He had also mentioned that he wanted to change the _Mona Lisa_ one for something—

“Blue.”

“Yeah,” Ryan nodded, the painting _had_ various amounts of blue, a blue night sky, with white stairs and a town in the distance. The longer Ryan looked at it, it was becoming his favorite too. “It is blue.”

When Shane looked at him, time began steadily. His irises had a hint of sorrow in them, as if he were to cry right here in front of Ryan. But his mouth said otherwise and gave Ryan the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Genuine, _amazed_ , and actually, happy for once.

“Thank you, Ryan. I love it.”

“Love it enough to hug it until you die?”

“Love it enough to _marry_ it until I die.”

The night was calmer after Shane hung the painting where _Mona Lisa_ was. They didn’t do much, they talked and drank the old gin Steven gave Shane last Christmas. (It was halfway full, now it was empty because of Shane.)

Ryan felt at home, he wasn’t alone for a second as Shane never left him alone. He didn’t cling to him as much though, yet, he talked to him every now and then to get him away from a conversation with Steven. And a quarter past twelve, asked Ryan to get him some water but when he returned from the kitchen, Shane was gone.

“He went upstairs, he must be drunk,” Steven answered his unspoken question. “If you like, I could show you to the spare room? Don’t forget your gifts though.”

“That would be nice,” Ryan set the water down on it’s coaster, picking up his presents. It turned out that most of the presents under the tree were for him from Shane. He’d spend over hundreds of dollars on him for no reason, (Steven told him it was because he was drunk and goblins have gold to spare.)

The spare room was just as elegantly decorated as the living room. Cream colored walls, plastered with overpriced wall art and a bed big enough for six people with gray sheets and throw pillows. He wanted to jump on the bed but Steven was behind him.

“Make yourself at home, the bathroom is down the hall and Shane’s bedroom is next to it. If you need me, my room is downstairs.”

Steven leaves, and Ryan gives him a minute and a half to jump and fall onto the bed. Oh, my god, it was— _it was_ like a thousand feathers and he was suffocating in bliss from all of them.

Before he went to bed, Ryan went downstairs, where he had left the glass of water for Shane. The house was eerie when it was completely unlit, the Christmas tree was off, the flame on the fireplace evaporated into smoke and the only light available was from the windows through the dining room. Once he got there with his bare feet and pajama pants, Ryan noticed the painting was gone.

That’s strange. He knew that he saw it before he left and Shane didn’t bother it all night.

Taking the glass of water in his hand, he took his ascend back upstairs and stopped in front of Shane’s bedroom door.

Timidly, he knocked, “Shane?” When there’s no answer, he knocked again. “I’m coming in okay? Scream if you’re naked.”

Ryan opened the door gently, it squeaked for a moment before he entered the room. The only sound in there was one of a ticking clock, alongside with the light radiating through the windows. Ryan tried to not make a lot of noise and placed the glass on the black bedside table.

He turned around then, catching sight of Shane otop of his covers, holding something in his arms. He can’t see in the dark very well, but from the way the light was hitting him, he can clearly see the blue in the painting.

Shane is snoring lightly, his mouth parted and eyes closed. His chest moving as relaxed as possible and his arms tightly around the frame of Ryan’s present. He… he is hugging it.

Biting back a smile, Ryan just brushed back a loose strand of hair from Shane’s eyes. “Goodnight, big guy. Merry Christmas.”

 

* * *

 

Newton told him (well not really him, his _students_ , Shane was one of them,) to think about gravity as an aggravating bastard. Once you pulled yourself up, something had to throw you back down to where you started. It taught you to pick yourself up everytime, time and time again, Shane would pick himself up.

After centuries of gravity’s unwanted pushover self, Shane just stopped.

Newton wouldn’t be proud.

It didn’t bother him that he refused to move—but to _push_ away the feelings he had for Ryan Bergara?

They were there, they were always going to _be_ there. And if he dared to shove them away it didn’t matter, because deep inside of his heart, he knew that he was undoubtedly, tormentingly, falling in love with Ryan Bergara.

Newton wouldn’t be proud of that either, he always was the polymogous type.

His journal lay on Shane’s desk, next to a blue ball that Ryan gave him for his unwanted stress and beside of his actual clientele paperwork. Shane knew the longer he stared at it, the less work he’ll finish. But, he couldn’t come up with a reason to open it and read what he had written last days prior.

He was drunk. He was drunk from his gin, Ryan’s present got to him that he tried to center his depression onto his drink and the unwanted, filthy journal.

(He was pushing it away, like Newton told him to, but he knew that he was in love or some sort of version of love.)

And he’d written it down! What wonders.

Shane messed with the blue ball, fingers probing the poor thing until it had no shape. Once he was bored with that, he began to click his pen constantly until the noise itself annoyed him to death.

Then, he glared at the painting, the one that Ryan gave him, the atrocious frame falling from its hinges, the paper holding it all together had been ripped over time and yet, the color never faded, no, it was just as he remembered it back during the Renaissance.

It bewitched him, once he took one long look he knew he was in trouble. It didn’t _remind_ him of the Renaissance. It reminded him of Ryan in New Orleans, the way his charming eyes looked at him, inviting him in deeper until he fell apart at the seams. It was the night sky in New Orleans shining on Ryan, _Starry Night_ was Ryan.

And he had it here at work because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of it.

“What’s that?”

Shane’s boss’ voice shattered the illusion, forced him to turn his head to him. He leaned on the doorway to his office, his eyes trained on the painting, something in Shane wanted him to not look at it, it was offending that someone with a hideous office could be looking at something so—

“It’s awful.”

_He was going to say enticing, one to their own._

“I don’t know where to put it,” Shane changed the topic, rubbing his scruff with his hand. It was true, he didn’t know where to put it, Steven was angry at him because he kept moving it from every room in the house. He hung it outside on their porch, only to have a distraught Steven walk inside with it asking _why_.

“In the garbage I suppose,” his boss replied, “Christmas present?”

“Yeah,” Shane nodded, “the love of my life gave it to me.” He said it as a joke, but saying the words out loud retracted his eyes back to the worn-out journal with a frown.

“Take a minute away from it and work on this.” His boss set a stack of papers on his desk, an abundance of them on a folder read _Case D. LLC_.

“From the electric company?” Shane knew what they were, his boss had been trying to get them on their side for years, to partner with them in order to strengthen their companies together. While his boss invested in attorneys and contributors for clients, partnerships with other companies meant free advertising, meetings in other cities, promotions. “You want me to do it?”

“By tomorrow morning, I’m sure you’ll do it tonight.”

“Tonight…” Shane’s eyes averted over to the painting, Ryan, the New Years Eve party… it was past noon. “Yes, I’ll have it done before you leave.”

“Great,” his boss walked away, fixing his blazer and closed the door behind him. Not before he muttered, “throw that thing away.”

Shane would _not_ be throwing that thing away. He loved that thing and wanted to admit it and read what he wrote. Instead, he pushed the journal aside and opened the file to began his work.

What he miscalculated—by the time lunch time arrived—was that the case was profound and it depraved Shane of all happiness in the course of three and a half hours. He wasn’t even a quarter in, on top of that, he hadn’t started on his previous cases. Therefore, he skipped lunch in order to call Ryan on the phone.

He knew that he was working too, at this time he would be cleaning up to go home. Or in this case, to change and wait for Shane to pick him up at six. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m going to be late, sweetie,” Shane teased through the receiver when Ryan answered cheerfully, he held his phone with his shoulder to his ear as he flipped to another page. “This case is enormous and I’m afraid I would be getting it done later than expected.”

“ _Oh no, really? Should I not go?_ ”

“No, no,” Shane’s scanned the words with ease, “go with Steven and I’ll see you there alright? Have fun, don’t worry about me.”

“ _I don’t know Shane_ ,” the tone of his voice alerted Shane, he sounded nervous even over the phone. “ _I’m not a big party person, you know that._ ”

“I do know that. And _I’ll_ be there. I just have to, sign these papers, meet with a client and boom, I’ll be in drunk town with you before you know it.”

Ryan doesn’t reply, his breathing an indication that the line wasn’t cut, he was just pensive. Shane sighed, pressing himself back on his chair, the journal was still under the case files, he saw it once and filled his head with idiocracies. “I’ll be there Ryan, I promise. I’ll… make it up to you.”

“ _I believe you, if you stand me up, Steven will get fifty dollars. Don’t do it moron._ ”

“Why… did they bet on us? I’m flattered.”

“ _Get back to work, Shane._ ”

“Get home safely, honey!” The line cut after he said it and knowing full well that Ryan’s flustered, Shane goes back to work on an empty stomach.

He was right about timing, at six he met the company’s head with his boss. They talked for an hour and Shane was done with confirming their partnership, his boss pulled him away.

“No, you can’t—”

“It’s through, the client would be here at eight.”

“At _eight_?”

His boss handed him another file, one thinner than the last but a mouthful indeed. Shane’s heart began to pound, Ryan must be at the party with Steven in tow. Whatever he was wearing today must have been a marvel to see yet, Shane was stuck here with another stack of files in his arms.

Shane went to work immediately, file after file, signature after signature and once it was eight, the client walked into his office and his phone vibrated.

_You coming?_

His client greeted him with a smile, complimenting him on his choice of artwork in his office. Ryan’s painting ended up hung on his wall after all, it gave him a boost when he had nothing to eat and when he spilled coffee on the sleeve of his blazer.

_Yes, just a bit longer_.

The client left a half an hour early, manipulation wasn’t strong enough with an empty stomach he noticed. But once the client left disoriented and bumping into the nearest objects, his boss came forward.

“Please—”

“No, just the case files from this morning? I need them before I leave.”

_The fucking case files..._

“I… I haven’t had a chance to do them, I’ll do them now.”

His boss pursed his lips, noticeably disgruntled with the predicament his employee offered him. Deciding not to argue, he nodded, “I want them on my desk by eight tomorrow—”

“I’ll have them there by ten, _tonight_.”

“One could only think so,” his boss replied, “goodnight, Shane. Happy New Year.”

_Happy New Year_.

Starting out his new year slumped over his desk with a sole lamp on, eyes skimmed through every word as promptly as he could and devouring five granola bars from the vending machine. Ryan didn’t text him again, Shane took it upon himself to let him know of his whereabouts, there in his office with stacks of papers around him.

He knew he smelled, his shirt untucked and hair tousled from running his hand over it constantly. He was stressed out and knowing that Ryan was sitting there waiting for him made it ten times worse.

It was half past ten when he finished, throwing the case files on his bosses desk and shoved his blazer on as fast as he could. When he looked down to grab his phone, Newton’s journal caught his eye. It sat there, in the same position it had been many hours ago. The words he had written, inked and proudly waiting for its owner to read.

Without a second thought, Shane grabbed it and stuck it on the pocket of his blazer and ran out the door. As a deity, he was thankful that teleportation was on his side, taking a quick shower, fixing his hair and shaving all in one go with objects that moved on their own on his command. He knew that Ryan liked his sweaters, he heard him say it in the back of his mind once, so he’d throw one on over his messed up hair.

He was about to walk through his bedroom door and to Tasty when the journal fell to the floor. It startled him, his fist locked on the doorknob as he magically lifted it back on his bed with his hand.

Tasty was livelier than his house, people were hollering, calling out names and clicking drinks together like no tomorrow. The Christmas decorations were mostly gone, tinsel still hung from the ceiling lights but everything else was in chaos. People crowded the restaurant, looking for Ryan in a mess of this place would be another job he’d have to do. He didn’t take two steps before someone was calling out to him.

“Hey handsome! What would you have?” Kelsey looked younger than the last time he saw her, when she was sixteen and down on her luck.

She was his best client, thought she never remembered the way he looked, he knew her nature. She was wearing the shortest dress he’s ever seen, even to make him look away bashfully, though she seemed to have a man behind her, he knew she was safe.

“Ryan, where is he?” He shouted over the crowd of people and music, leaning down to her ear.

Her red lips parted and then she smiled. “It’s _you_! I really thought you stood him up! Hey, Steven! Here’s your boy and give me your fifty!”

Steven came out from the crowd, not a thing about him in disarray or out of place. He looked as if he had barely arrived, yet, holding a half pint in his hands and his fifty dollar bill. “I really thought you weren’t coming. Ryan was pretty upset.”

“I know, I have to apologize.”

“That’s… so sweet,” Kelsey breathed, her hand on her cheek. “Don’t worry, I gave him a drink to calm him down.”

“You gave him what?”

“Or two… I haven’t seen him since, he must really be enjoying himself.”

Shane groaned, throwing his head back, being as tall as he was, he thought of the risk of hitting someone’s skull and killing himself there. Ryan _drunk_ meant Ryan _hungover_ and _clingy_. “Where is he?”

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” Kelsey replied drunkenly, not exactly touching him but her fingers reach out to his collarbone.

“He’s over at the booth, I’ll take you.”

“It was nice meeting you?” Kelsey waved, Shane turned his head to her again. If only she knew.

“Shane, my name is Shane.”

“Shane?”

Sometimes when you think that life isn’t a surprise, you could be wrong. It would throw you in a loop constantly until you’re puking your lungs out or you’re accidentally stopping time for the second time in centuries.

Last time he did it for Galileo, this time, it’s for Ryan Bergara.

Shane couldn’t count the amount of times Ryan would wear his denim jacket, the same black shirt and black pants. And yet, he looked handsome all the same, his hair was merely tousled and his eyes rounded with the liquor in his system buzzing him off the walls. He wasn’t far from him but far enough to catch his eye and say his name, he said it once more, yelling it over the crowd of people he was with.

Smiling widely and Shane has to remind himself to _breathe_ and let time flow on its own.

But he couldn’t.

Ryan led the way to his future—in other words, how he’d meet his demise. He couldn’t believe that somebody so precious, somebody so cheerful, somebody bright, somebody who thought of others and not himself, somebody who caved in Shane’s heart and found shelter there—how Ryan could do that to somebody he admired.

From day one, he was patient with Shane, offered a hand and _listened_ to him. In all of his years alive, all of his days on Earth, he never came across somebody like him. Somebody for him to call his.

Somebody that he’s fallen in love with.

Shane would be with him for eternity, protect him from what he doesn’t know and keep him happy for the rest of his life. He’d stop the rain forever for him, he’ll let the sun shine on him for the rest of time—even though the sun itself couldn’t compare to the brightness of his smile.

Galileo wouldn’t be proud of him for that.

“I was thinking that you wouldn’t come!”

_Me either, until I realized that I wanted to see you_.

“I’m here and you’re drunk.”

“That I am!” Ryan giggled loudly and choked on his own laughter. He bounced on his feet to the rhythm of the music and around the people around him. He reeked of alcohol, he’s making too much noise for somebody to be unhappy with him and all Shane can do is smile and join him.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of him for a second, afraid that he’ll disappear.

By the end of the night, when the clock ticked its final ten seconds to midnight, Ryan pulled him close.

Drunk and tired after introducing him to Kelsey (and Steven?) He didn’t have the heart to tell him that Kelsey _did_ win those fifty dollars after all, not even when Ryan is yelling the seconds down to the new year in _his_ ear.

No.

Not even when he’s hugging Shane tightly when the time comes, around those cheering and kissing, Shane is only focused on the way he held him and when he pulled away, the smile he had on his face.

No, you wouldn’t change at all.

“Happy new year, Shane,” Ryan hiccuped, “may it be a good one for us!”

_I’m sorry._

“Happy new year, Ryan.”

He took him home at one in the morning, laying him down on his bed like he had done when he was mugged. He turned the heater on, cursing Ryan’s aunt, setting a glass of water and medicine at his bedside table.

He looked undisturbed when he was sleep, his eyelashes curled over the bags under his eyes, his full cheeks and mouth parted. He was going to feel awful tomorrow morning and Shane would be there to take him out for breakfast.

_I’m sorry._

When he got home, Steven’s passed out on the couch and he stumbled to his bedroom. His eyes looked for the journal first, would Newton be proud that he scribbled on his work? No.

He opened it anyway, he didn’t care. There, marked in red, was his poor handwriting, atop of the law of gravity. It was his favorite part of Newton’s lessons.

He had tears in his eyes when he finished reading it, water yielded from his eyes and down his cheeks. The desperate grief he had correlated with his sword surrounded him alone in his room and though he hadn’t cried for centuries—today he did.

 

* * *

 

I’ll mark it in red, from me to you. When I saw you in New Orleans, when I saw you now.

An object needn’t be large to have a great mass. Then came you; that man, drifting in the sky like the pedals of a flower draws me to him with a force greater than the one exerted by earth. In a single moment, I fell and rolled toward him without rhyme or reason just as Newton’s apple did. With a thump, my heart bounced from the heavens to the earth in a dizzying pendular motion.

Such was the moment, I had fallen in love with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, everyone! It's Midsummer Scream day! I hope everyone has a wonderful time meeting the boys! Stay safe if you are!
> 
> Last night's episode was /so/ good but I had been busy at work to update. And because I have to work on Sunday and I'm going on vacation on Monday (Shane-esque, floral shirt, sunglasses and all,) so here's the update a day early! Another monster of a chapter, /sighs loudly. We're past halfway to the ending already wow!!!! BIG surprise at the end that you would probably yell FINALLY over.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and I apologize for any spelling/punctuation errors!
> 
> *I won't update on Sunday or Wednesday. Will update on **Thursday**. If you're behind on the fic, now is a great time to catch up! It is pretty long now... I will reply to comments as best I can! I greatly appreciate all of you! 
> 
> unbeta'd

Ryan’s time at UCLA was nearing its end. Every minute of his day reminded him that he would soon have no possible excuse to get out from applying for a long-term career. A career that would, undoubtedly, determine what he wanted to be for life.

It didn’t terrify him, he’s been through this process _twice_ and the first time he graduated, Ryan couldn’t afford to go to UCLA until he was twenty-two. He knew that if he fucked up, he’ll wait a few years to get back on his feet.

“I don’t feel stressed,” he said confidently, not as loud as he wanted to be (he was at the library after all,) but loud enough where his fellow classmates _would_ hear him and deem him as insane. He didn’t care, he was leaving soon.

“I know that you don’t,” Jen’s eyes narrowed maddeningly at the graduation application. “ _I do._ I never got to do it before and I feel like I’m resonating that energy away from you. Do you feel like passing out?”

“No.” 

“I _do_ ,” Jen slammed her transparent hands on the wooden table, the noise is silent, like a pin dropping on the floor. She slouched on the chair with an exasperated sigh.

“Here,” he told her, turning the application so he can see the words for himself. “Let’s say you are graduating, I’m helping you by filling out the blanks.”

“I’ll still drive myself insane with stress,” she shuddered, then her eyes averted from him. Her expression blank, though, when Ryan looked over his shoulder, he knew that she fought back a grin. 

“You _just_ returned from holiday and he’s already waiting for you. A dream come true.”

“I’m not officially back,” Ryan grumbled, watching his friend and classmate, Brent look for him in the sea of quiet students. “I only came here to check my schedule.”

He waved the piece of paper with his final courses printed on them; he promised himself to take it easy for his last semester, though, is there ever a time to take it easy?

“What are you taking?” 

“Statistics.”

“You said you would take it _easy_ ,” Jen growled, “that’s like _the_ hardest class here!”

“Uh huh,” he’s forced to keep his voice down now that Brent spotted him, walking closer to him. He might not care that others hear him talking to himself but he sort of liked the company of his friend and would prefer that he’d think of him as sane.

“Oh, you’re going to stop talking to me for him, huh,” Jen taunted, she cocked her head at him. “I get it, I get it!”

“Hey, Ryan. I knew that I would find you here,” Brent whispered, he sat on the chair Jen was slouched on and she let out a squeal in surprise before she jumped to her feet, Brent himself shivered at the drastic temperature change and rose from the chair.

Jen swore angrily at him, frustrated that she wasn't offered an apology. But Brent’s just as tall as Shane and it looked like a child was yelling at him because he pulled on her hair.

“Wha…?”

Giggling, Ryan covered his mouth with his hand. “Hi Brent, what can I do for ya?”

“You…” Brent’s head jerked to the side, opposite of Jen, who scowled at him. “Did you not feel that?”

He felt it all the damn time, he’s cold _because_ of Jen.

“No… You look pale. Did you see a ghost?”

“Ghosts aren’t real, Ryan.”

Shane had told Ryan that _many_ times, in different variations to somehow convince Ryan that he isn’t seeing spirits of the living dead and had gone mad. He told him to mess with him, sometimes he would hold Ryan’s shoulders and echoed it and shared his knowledge of scientific evidence that ghosts _aren't_ real.  

(Once he told him Spanish, when Ryan asked him to repeat it he said it in German.)

All of those times, Shane had a smile on his face or he’d add humor to his tone. 

Brent was different, he legitimately believed himself when he said that ghosts _aren't_ real.

Ryan lowered his head instinctively, wished that Shane was the one messing with him now.

“Why are you here alone?”

“Uh,” without lifting his head, Ryan slid the graduation application to Brent. “Filling out paperwork.”

“Alone?” 

“ _No_ , he’s with me,” Jen fumed, she’s still standing next to Brent who refused to sit in her unoccupied seat.

“Yes,” Ryan contradicted her words, “I don’t have work today and Shane does so…”

“Ah,” Brent finally took a seat on Jen’s chair, straightening himself. “I understand. He’s the guy from the party?” 

“You didn’t meet him?” 

“Not… that you gave me a chance to introduce myself.” Brent had been at the New Year's Eve party, Ryan invited him before finals and he gladly accepted as long as Ryan would be there.

He stuck around to give Ryan some company when Shane didn't show up until the last hour, he was nice but Ryan knew that he left him alone most of the time because Kelsey gave him alcohol.

“Sorry, I was drunk.”

“I know,” Brent grinned, amused at Ryan’s embarrassment from the way he acted. He doesn’t remember anything, though, video evidence shows him singing to karaoke, jumping around like a child and clinging onto Shane for dear life.

Ryan tried to not think about it and continued to fill in his application.

“You and Shane…” Brent began, Ryan nodded slowly, writing down his date of birth. “Are you two  _together_?” 

“No,” Ryan answered casually, “we’re not together. We’re just friends.”

“So you’re single?”

_I'm kind of engaged to a deity—but yeah, I am_. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh good.”

Ryan looked up, holding his pen in his hand and his eyebrows drew together. Regret clouded Brent’s features as he stammered a reply, “I—I didn’t mean that—You—”

“That’s okay,” Ryan pouted, teasing him for a while longer. “I love being alone.” 

“I hope not for long— can I ask you something?”

When Ryan opened his mouth to reply, his phone vibrated on the wooden table. It echoed in the tranquility of the library and he picked it up hastily, answered it without checking who it was. 

“Hello?”

“ _Ryan,_ ” it was Kelsey, he noticed from the way she popped her gum when she purred his name. “ _I need you to take over Steven’s shift tonight, come to the restaurant._ ” 

“Did… Steven call in?” Ryan asked her, already packing up his things. 

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathed, bummed. “ _He said it was a family emergency. Not sure how honest he is with me, men usually aren’t. But Steven’s my favorite, I’m giving him time._ ”

Ryan let her ramble through the receiver, it’s an obvious hint that she’s bored out of her mind alone for the morning. When he swung his backpack over his shoulder, Brent followed reluctantly.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan whispered, covering his hand on the phone’s receiver, Kelsey’s words are muffled but she continued to talk and _will_ do so until he gets there. “I’ll talk to you later—”

“Go out with me,” Brent said urgently, his sudden offer cut Ryan off and Kelsey over the phone too. “Just a date, not today but…”

Well, isn’t that a plot twist. Who's to say Brent is the unfated third wheel in Ryan and Shane’s unofficial, magical marriage. Ryan thought that it would be nice to grab lunch with him sometime though, Brent’s an easy going guy and he’s somebody who treated him kindly.

“Sure,” Ryan replied, his mouth curled into a smile when Brent let out a sigh of relief. “Not today… sometime okay?”

“We’ll go out for lunch and talk about sports or something. Sound good?”

Ryan tilted his head, he knew nothing about sports.

Brent let him leave the library and he made his way to his job, passing students on his way out.

“ _Who was that before? Did someone ask you out?_ ”

“Mhm,” Kelsey was still on the phone with him, the timer on his screen counted to almost fifteen minutes. 

“ _And you said yes?!_ ”

“Yes, he’s my friend. He was at the party, too. You saw him.” 

“ _I don’t remember, everything went blank the second I had those tequila shots and when I saw Shane_.”

Shane.

Ryan knew not to dig into things that wasn’t his business but Steven’s absence from work told him that Shane wasn’t in the best shape. This was the second time he called in, the last time he had done so, Shane was sick at the time. He knew Shane’s depression had caused the downpour over Los Angeles that  _flooded_ some areas of the city.

He’s been this way since the party, where Ryan was informed that Shane took him home the first day of the new year. It was the last he physically saw of Shane, only texts and calls present.

At first he assumed that it had been because he was busy working but when _Steven_ kept coming to work lethargic and out of it, he knew that wasn’t it.

He hadn’t visit Shane in a while, he thought to pay him a visit when he does. And if he is sick, he’ll make him soup again as a thanks that no matter how bad it got, he refused to let it rain over Ryan.

“ _I miss him_.”

“Kelsey you _just_ met him.” 

“ _He was so tall, he didn’t even look at me and he’s got me hooked._ ”

_He does that on purpose._  

“ _I can’t believe you agreed to go out with somebody else,_ ” Kelsey went on, he’s close to the restaurant now and the second he opened the door Kelsey would be on him in an instant.

“I like him, what’s the big deal?”

“The big _deal_ is that Shane clearly likes you and you would rather date other people.” 

He was right, timing was perfect. “Hello Kelsey.” Ryan walked past her and took his apron from the counter. From what he learned working at Tasty was that everything was kept in order until the night shift.

“Don’t ignore me, I am your _mother_.”

“I’m a grown man,” Ryan responded, his voice muffled as he tried to reach over to tie the knot to his apron. “I can make decisions for myself. Shane doesn’t have to do it for me.”

Kelsey squinted at him and pursed her lips. She grew quiet as he readied himself for his shift. She knew that he is right, there was no need to go along with Shane and their ceremonial soulmate bullshit. The stars didn’t decide whether if he and Shane were meant to be.

If it were true, then it would be up to the both of them, not just Ryan. Not just Shane. 

“Why did you agree to go out with Brent?”

“I thought you didn’t know him,” Ryan clocked in, looking over his shoulder. Kelsey didn’t bother to stand up to leave yet, her hair loosely fell over her shoulders and onto what seems to be the first jacket he’s ever seen her wear. 

“I don’t,” she licked her lips. “He is just a friend. This _is_ a friend date.”

“Yes.” 

She nodded her head sluggishly as if to understand what had been told to her. It was coming, he knew it was. “Don’t sleep with casual friends, Ryan.”

There it was.

“I’m not, don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you,” Kelsey confessed, wrinkling her nose as Ryan raised his head to kiss her temple slyly. “You’re short even when I am sitting, you are my angel and I have to protect you.” 

“I'm a grown man, don’t infantilize me.”

“I’m messing with you,” she cackled, sat up from the stool and made her way over to grab her purse. “I’ll see you later, man. Make sure you’re the one that closes tonight, I don’t trust anyone else with the keys.”

“I’m going to Shane’s house later,” Ryan blurted out, he’s been telling her that he visits Shane often, she’ll tell him to be careful and to tell Shane that she’s thinking about him. (Shane would give him a polite smile that said  _who is she again?_ )

“Give the keys to Steven if he's there, he’ll work your morning shift tomorrow.”

Is it a good idea to let Steven go back to work? He wondered but Kelsey’s out the door and his doubt goes unnoticed. 

For a Monday, Tasty wasn’t as busy as one thought. It marked the end of the holidays and children were heading back to school, others to work. It had only been Ryan and his two other co workers and considering how empty Tasty had been at nine at night, he told them to leave early as he closed up.

He took the bus to Shane’s house this time as he didn’t feel like walking, the bus stop only ten minutes away from his neighborhood. He stood there at the bus stop when the bus left him, fiddling the zippo lighter with his fingers inside of the pocket of his navy jacket.

January was here, that meant that it be cold for Ryan to wear his scarf again. The next two months were always the worst for him—the warmth of his scarf wouldn’t account for Los Angeles’ windy breeze until spring where he had to keep his mothers scarf safely tucked away.

He shivered when he walked to Shane’s front door, he lifted his fist to knock when Steven yanked the door wide open.

“He’s here!” He hollered, making sure to exaggerate his entrance. Bare feet hit his flooring as he strut away from Ryan, leaving the door wide open for him to enter.

“It’s about _time_ ,” a voice grunted at Ryan. 

Shane had his stubble, almost a full grown beard, his eyes covered with the bluest tint under them and his shoulders slouched as he moved. He wore pajama pants with the shirt Ryan seen him wear one other time, when he told him about the blade. 

Shane suddenly clashed with Ryan’s chest, “I needed that marital energy of yours or I would have imploded.” 

“Don’t you mean exploded?” Ryan sidestepped, removing himself from Shane’s embrace as he took himself to sit on the couch.

“I don't know,” Shane fell back on the couch too, dramatically and dropped his head on Ryan’s thighs. He curled into himself there, looking at Ryan when he hinted that he wanted to be touched. 

“You’re heavy, I can’t—”

“You can and you _will_ ,” another voice resonated from the kitchen, Steven walked out looking worse than Shane himself. Both of them looked as if they never gotten any sleep to begin with, temperature skyrocketed and left lethargically pale. 

“I’ve been holding him, _caressing_ him for hours since this morning,” he shuddered, keeping himself warm. “Whatever the fuck he has, I have it too and you have to keep him company so I can sleep.”

“What have you done to him?” Ryan placed his hand on Shane’s head, his hair unattractively crusty in his fingers but he tried to smooth it out. Shane smelled and the aroma of alcohol mixed with unwashed hair spun around Ryan, now breathing from his mouth. 

“Nothing. I’ve done _nothing_ ,” Shane grieved, ignoring Steven’s glare at he stomped to his room. “Maybe woke him up a few times for a massage.” 

“You’re insufferable, he’ll kill you,” Ryan joked, he waited for Steven to slam his door to make eye contact with Shane. Up close, he saw the wrinkles there, his eyes swollen and the bags underneath that he saw before more apparent. He looked, in other words, awful.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Shane’s eyes narrowed, his pupils widened only when Ryan took his fingers to squeeze the nape of his neck. “Yes, got the flu.” 

“This is more than the flu.”

“I missed you.”

“Shane,” Ryan tried to move his thighs away, to lift Shane up and _talk_ to him. Shane only wrapped his arms around his legs desperately, keeping him in place.

Something stopped him from moving, when he had moved Shane shut his eyes tightly, like he were in agony. This man wasn’t sick, he was in pain. He didn’t try to move anymore because he knew that if he did, Shane would probably fall to the floor.

Ryan didn’t see the sword either, it was invisible at the moment but if it were the source of his pain, he wouldn't know it.

“I’m fine, I’m just feeling down on my luck today,” Shane murmured, his lips on Ryan’s knee.

“Do you want me to make you soup? I can learn cream of mushroom—”

“I just want you to stay here,” Shane turned his head, his hair tickled Ryan’s stomach, “let me fall asleep for a few minutes.”

_It looks like you need it_ , he thought. Making sure that Shane would be in range to hear him inside of his thoughts.

“Okay,” he agreed out loud, he moved his hand from Shane’s oily hair and to his back. “I’ll stay.” 

Shane fell asleep soon after, his chest rising and falling steadily as he kept his arms wrapped on Ryan’s legs, forcing his knees together. It wasn’t long until his thighs ached, his legs falling asleep, the tingling of his toes numb and he would be unable to walk for a while. As long as Shane was asleep, he could not feel any pain so Ryan didn’t move.

An hour into Shane falling asleep, Ryan looked up from his phone to see Steven walk back into the room, his hair in disarray and stunned to see the miracle in front of him. 

“He’s sleeping!” He exclaimed, Ryan hushed him and he lowered his voice. “He’s sleeping.”

“He hadn’t slept?”

“No,” Steven smiled drowsily. “Neither have I, I’m taking my leave to sleep, too. Please, if you get tired, let him fall to the floor, he is heavy.” 

Ryan’s doesn’t let Shane fall to the floor. He endured his atrophied legs, it wasn’t like he was going to need them anytime soon.

In the morning, Ryan found himself in Shane’s dining room table with his legs propped up on the seat across from him.

Spreading the butter evenly on toast, Ryan tried his best not to move his legs as much. Who knew having an adult man sleep on your thighs would risk losing all aspects of moving them? He didn’t.

“Are they feeling better? Could you at least wiggle your toes?” Steven asked, setting down a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Ryan, “do you want more bacon?”

“I’m _fine_ , don’t baby me,” Ryan pleaded, taking a bite of his toast. “You’ll be worse than _him_.”

“I did nothing wrong here.” Shane's out of the shower, his beard gone and left with his smooth jaw, his hair damp with the towel loosely hanging around his shoulders. He looked fresher. When he woke up, he still had those dark rings under his eyes but after a few minutes to himself in the bathroom, he was good as new.

“You paralyzed him.”

While that was true, it had been Ryan’s choice to not move Shane in the first place. He fell asleep there with him halfway onto his lap, his neck was stiff as hell.

Shane had panicked and forced him to lay down for a few minutes and massage his legs in order to help his blood circulate again. That is, until Steven came in the room screaming for them to _stop_ whatever they were doing.

“I’m _okay_ ,” Steven left him behind, tossing the grimy pans on the sink. They automatically start to _magically_ clean themselves under the running water, a sponge washed the leftover egg stuck to them. Shane loved to multitask.

“You’re impressed by that?”

Ryan looked back to Shane, casually chewing on a strip of bacon. “No, it annoys me how loud it is.”

Suddenly, the pots and pans stop, dropping onto the sink loudly. Some of the water splashed onto the floor, the sponge left unattended on the counter and he was _sure_ a plate broke in half.

“Shane!”

“He was annoyed,” Shane smirked, finishing his bacon and wiped his fingers clean with a napkin. “Well, I’m off to work.”

A lie, he wasn’t even dressed yet. 

“That’s because I’m taking you home first.”

After Ryan unintentionally spent the night, he had no way of washing up after the night shift he worked. He smelled of alcohol and hamburgers respectfully and yearnedfor a shower at his own house.

“Get out of my head, idiot,” Ryan warned, no maliciousness in his voice, he finished his plate before setting it inside of the disastrous sink. In this view, the plate from before is not broken in half, it’s in _pieces,_ no longer recognizable.

“Do you want me to—”

“Come on,” Shane stalked over to him and placed a hand on his stinky shoulder, leading him to the living room. “Steven would clean this up.”

“What? No, Shane come back here—”

“It’s not polite to leave things dirty at someone’s house,” Ryan told him when he closed the front door behind them, now in the interior of Ryan’s bedroom.

“Eh, it’s not like you don’t live there already,” Shane shrugged, he walked over to the things on his desk. He’s gotten used to having a bedroom with little things to call his but after Christmas and after Shane unjustifiably spending hundreds on him, he had no room for himself.

“Where are your roses?”

“I threw them out?” Ryan took off his shoes, tossed all of his stuff onto his bed. “They were old and died.” 

“Do you want more?”

“Why did you have to word it like that?” Ryan squinted when Shane laughed, crossing his legs and leaning on his desk like he _lives_ here.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Leave, big guy,” Ryan pushed him to his bedroom door, nearly tripping him in the process because a present had been in the way. “I’m going to take a shower, you don’t want to see me naked, do you?” 

“Well, if you put that way, it doesn't sound so bad—” Shane’s chest collided with the door, instinctively he jerked away and grabbed the door knob just in case he’d have to run if Ryan attacked him. “Sorry about your legs.”

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”

Shane pouted, his upper body halfway through the bedroom door, he looked at Ryan with glossy eyes, trying to convince him that he would burst into tears any minute now. 

Ryan opened the door with his hand, unintentionally pushed Shane into it. He lifted himself on his tiptoes to leaned closer to Shane’s face, "let's go out for lunch then I’ll forgive you.”

“Deal.”

(He wasn’t mad, but he let Shane take him to a korean restaurant and made him eat the spiciest chicken that they had as payback.)

(Shane hates spicy food.)

“I don’t hate it,” Shane gasped, sticking his tongue out as he tried to get the taste out if his mouth. His eyes bloodshot, his nose tinted red from the sauce he decided to smell. “I’m dying. This is how I die.”

“I’ll make sure they engrave your tombstone with: _died of spicy chicken._ ”

Shane gave him a glare, hands gripping the stained napkin as tight as he could.

Ryan made it up to him the next day, buying _him_ a cake with his 48-word apology letter written in icing.

“How the hell did you convince them to do this?” Shane asked him, taking a spoonful of the cake without bothering to cut it. He offered Ryan the side that explained how sorry he felt for making him eat spicy chicken.

“I’m pretty convincing,” he praised, taking his own spoon to dig in. Just the two of them, sharing the apology cake. 

(Shane had a stomach ache later, turns out eating too much dairy after spicy food don’t settle well in one’s stomach.) 

Another week steadily passed before they knew it— Ryan would work in the morning, Shane would spend lunch with him and _now_ dinner then invite him over to his house. Every second of the day, they were together, like two peas in a pod. It was different from their routine before Christmas, this was new.

Spending time with Shane after his chaotic week was like a landslide waiting to happen and Ryan was at the bottom, preparing his shoulders for the pressure they were about to hold. 

He thought that’s the reason why he’s been cautious with Shane. He knew that he refused to leave Ryan alone for the reason that he had helped him sleep and took away his stress. Ryan was his Ibuprofen that he took after every meal.

When you’re someone's medication, Ryan thought, there must be a reason behind it. But asking Shane about his problems was like taking to a brick wall. Nothing was said back and if the wall _could_ talk, it would give him vague answers that raised more questions or changed the topic.

He knew not to push him, Shane would be angry if he did. He still couldn’t help himself from worrying about him.

And whatever it may be, Ryan decided to keep it to himself too. Because watching Shane eat foods that he enjoyed (nothing spicy,) spending time with him at his house or in the outskirts of Canada was better than he ever dreamed of. 

He had a friend that didn’t pity him. A genuine buddy to count on and trust, someone who makes him laugh with no effort. 

When he’d get home after a long day with Shane, he’d finally have an explanation about the butterflies in his tummy. He had a crush.

But he won’t admit that out loud.

 

* * *

 

“You want to go where?!” 

“Forget to clean your ears today, honey?” Shane’s shoulder rested on the doorway to Ryan’s house, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when Ryan gave him a horrified look. “I want to go to a pub.” 

“You can do that here!” Ryan barked, gesturing at the ground. Although he was still inside, his hands shook as they clenched the front door. “You want to go to a pub in _London_?!”

They’ve been to places other than Los Angeles but England was a whole other continent away. Ryan felt safer teleporting around a few cities in L.A—but  _England_ , the nausea already festered in the pit of his stomach thinking about it.

Ryan had been at home for his day off, he had spare time to watch television before his aunt got home, yet, the second he stood to hide in his room, the doorbell rang and Shane stood there looking like an asshole.

No. He actually looked stylishly handsome. His hair no longer a mess, a huge swoop with no strand out of place. His jaw bare, showing off the glow of his pale face. He wore Ryan’s favorite sweater and as Ryan examined his buddy, he realized that he held something behind his back.

“Are you up for it?”

“ _Now_?” Ryan wasn’t even dressed for going outside, much less to _London._ “It’s only two!” 

“It’s eight over there.”

“That’s too early,” Ryan whispered and massaged the back of his neck, “don’t use the timezone card on me, I refuse to have a headache.”

Shane smirked. “Yes, dear. We can eat first if that’s what you’d like.”

“In London?”

“In London.”

“Is it safe for us to go there?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Shane’s eyes softened modestly though his smile widened. He pulled himself away from the doorway to show Ryan what he had behind his back—coats, _his_ coat, a beanie and gloves folded around his forearm.

“I understand that you're not used to the cold, I am prepared today.” Shane gave Ryan a blue coat, similar to the one he had over his arm, he didn't move to try it on. “London is _pretty_ cold.”

“I figured,” Ryan looked at the coat then back to Shane. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because I haven’t seen you all day,” Shane told him, shrugging his own coat on and adjusted the lapels, he smoothed it out and smiled when Ryan began to put his on. “I needed your marital—”

“—marital energy to look this handsome, I _know_.”

_You’ve been saying that all week._ “You can’t be as handsome as you like to be, not when you have that in your chest.” Ryan pointed his finger to Shane’s chest, the blade was transparent, all Ryan saw was the hilt sticking out.  

Shane’s smile didn’t reach his eyes but nonetheless gently pulled Ryan outside and closed his front door. “Your cousins won’t mind you gone for a while?”

“I hope not…” Ryan fidgeted nervously, “how long would we be gone for?” 

“Depends,” Shane popped his fingers, a habit he had whenever he was going to use any ability he had. Shane explained that he didn’t need to do it but it had become a habit since he moved away from Chile long ago.

(“Why Chile?”

“That’s a story for another time.”)

“Do you want to go home with me?” 

“Stop wording things like that,” Ryan stepped aside and watched as Shane opened his front door, his aunt’s living room out of view and a muddled picture of a dim street appeared, “it depends how tipsy I am.”

“You? Tipsy? You’ll be drunk after two drinks.”

Routinely, Shane led Ryan through the door first before himself. The vertigo that had bubbled up in the pit of Ryan’s stomach grew exponentially, spreading through each of his limbs and dazed him. He didn’t move or open his eyes, instead, listened to the unfamiliar accents of those around him. Shane did not speak to him as he tried to recover, he didn't need to because in the back of Ryan’s mind, he _saw_ him.

Shane was younger in his mind, his hair shorter and darker. He was scrawny with outgrown limbs but his eyes haven’t changed, they were still sad, downcasted.

Shane wasn’t doing a thing in his mind, he just stood there, hands in pockets and bore his gaze into Ryan’s soul. He stared until he faded away, his frown stabbed Ryan’s heart until he couldn’t bare it anymore and fell to the ground. 

What was that…?

He held his knees on the pavement, Shane’s hand on his bicep as he tried to balance him, yet, all he wanted to do was lay there and cry out the sorrow in his chest. It fucking hurt, his body _ached_ and wished to bawl until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Ryan—Ryan, come on,” Shane’s voice was like a distant memory, echoed in Ryan’s head as he blinked. “I know you’re dizzy but you look drunk already.”

Ryan didn’t respond, his eyes catatonic as he tried to focus on Shane’s form. The longer he stared, more blank edges began to fill, and Ryan was looking at an older Shane, with gelled hair and a smile that could rival the sun itself.

“Sweetie, do you need me to carry you?” Shane gave a half smile, his fingers tightened on Ryan’s bicep.

Whatever he had seen in his mind, it wasn’t Shane. No, Shane was a happy man who loved to taunt him until he squirmed. He loved to tell him jokes and keep them as _their_ jokes—never explained them to anyone else. Shane, in other words, wasn’t the man he saw.

“You’re too powerful,” Ryan croaked, he leaned his broad body on Shane’s shoulder and his eyelids drooped, almost closing his eyes entirely. “You shouldn’t have this much power.”

“It just means that you need practice,” Shane replied, taking his warm hand away from Ryan.

He stepped away and Ryan finally got a better look when he opened his eyes. London was different from where he had been to, it was already night here, the moon brightened the stone buildings. All of them side by side, standing tall along the boulevard where streetlamps lingered. The frigid winter air told him that yes, he was not in L.A anymore. 

“I lived here a century ago,” Shane began after a long moment.

“Did you ever meet the zodiac killer?” 

“As a matter of fact…”

Ryan’s blood ran cold, for reasons unknown, the image of young Shane crossed his mind again. This time, he imagined him covered in gore alongside his victims. Before he could think about it further, Shane flicked his forehead.

“No, I am not the zodiac killer,” Shane retorted seriously, he scrunched up his face, “I never met them, I’m just messing with you.”

“Them?”

“Man, woman, deity, god. I don’t know who or _what_ they are, Ryan,” Shane confessed, shrugging his shoulder and leaning on the cobblestone wall. His wide shoulders almost covered the entire wall but Ryan didn’t say that outloud. “I didn’t even live in the same area at the time.”

“But you were here,” Ryan taunted, “how much of a coincidence… how could I trust that you wouldn’t torture me to death?”

Shane narrowed his eyes and let out a mirthless laugh though, he remained stoic. “I am lots of things but I am not a killer.”

Ryan shifted from one foot to the other, his tone hasn’t changed, it was tense around them and he couldn’t find a way to change the topic without making it obvious.

They were _fine_ this entire time, Shane loved to spend time with him as of late and used the previous excuse of his ‘marital energy’ to keep him around. Why did he have to be so stupid?

“You see that fountain?” Shane pulled away from the wall and pointed behind Ryan. He whirled around to see a fountain, centered in the middle of a plaza. Once he saw the clearing, he could see that they had been in the by an intersection in front of the pub that Shane had wanted to go to. 

“I thought you wanted to go eat first.”

“I do,” Shane’s eyes locked on the fountain again, “I had seen an execution go down where that fountain is now. It was a long time ago but I remember most of it. I couldn’t say that I didn't enjoy it at the time.” 

“Shane—”

“But now,” Shane slouched, his shoulders hit the wall once more. He did not dare to look at Ryan but from the angle he stood at, he saw more than he needed to.

“As I see it and you being here with me, I’m afraid of it.”

“It’s a fountain, it can’t hurt you.”

Shane finally averted his eyes, looking down at Ryan with a frown. His eyes narrowed again until his gaze focused not Ryan’s eyes, but his lips. He ignored Shane’s eyes on him, “the fountain can’t hurt me either.” 

“I’m not worried about that,” Shane returned his gaze to his eyes and kept them locked there. “I brought you here to tell you about the time I was here. I just don’t want you near the fountain.” He wasn’t demanding Ryan though, it sounded as if he was pleading with him to not go near the fountain in fear that it’d extend it’s watery limbs and drown him to death. 

“Don’t think bad things,” Shane lowered his head, “water is capable of killing you.”

“With transparent tentacles?”

“Don’t get kinky with me,” Shane chuckled, keeping his gaze away from the fountain and to his shiny black boots. 

Why Shane took him here, Ryan wasn’t sure. He knew what he had seen when he was here, how he lived and what he had to do to survive among the people here. There wasn’t any doubt in Shane's mind when he asked Ryan to come here with him.

So. His doubt accumulated when Ryan mentioned a murderer.

Shane wasn’t an evil man. He was anything _but_ an evil man, and the fact that he felt guilty now to see the fountain was an example of it. Shane looked up to Ryan again but Ryan was faster and wrapped his arms around him. He only reached his upper chest, but that didn’t stop him to wrap both arms around his lithe neck and _pull_.

Shane let out a harsh breath near his earlobe and accepted his fate as Ryan pulled him down. He hunched over and reluctantly placed both of his hands on Ryan’s back.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his breath tickled Ryan’s hair. 

“I’m hugging you,” Ryan said, stating the obvious and laughed. Shane was warm, his body was like it’s own thermal heater, alongside with his dense coat and gloves, London’s air strayed away from Ryan when he had him in his arms. “To calm you down and I’m forcing you to listen to me.”

Shane remained quiet, he did not move or tighten his grip on Ryan, he kept his hands firmly placed on his back.

“You live in the past, Shane. From experience, I can tell you that it wouldn’t help you if you are,” Ryan closed his eyes, his mother’s smile as she told him that she was leaving him forever crossed his mind.

“Start living _in the present_. If you’re guilty for what you have seen or done in your life, then _cry_ about it and move on. We can’t change our past Shane.” 

Shane’s hands began to shake, Ryan could not see him from the way he hugged him to him. He knew that Shane would have wanted Ryan not to look at him in such a vulnerable state, so he massaged his nape with his hand. Shane scrunched his neck but kept still.

“You are a lot of things,” Ryan added, echoed Shane’s words back to him and chuckled. “But you are no killer, you’re not evil, you’re not a liar, you are but a man who was cursed to be ugly forever.”

Shane let out a guffaw, his voice broke as he did. It was subtle but Ryan caught it quickly. Suddenly, Ryan felt Shane’s arms wrap around him, pressed him closer to him and hid his face onto his neck. He made no sound, nothing, he just kept Ryan’s body near his.

In the darkness of London, where it was fucking freezing and a haunted fountain stood across from him, Shane hugged Ryan tightly, if he squeezed, Ryan was sure that his organs would be mangled.

“My neck is starting to cramp,” Shane suddenly groaned from the dip of Ryan’s neck, his lips grazed his collarbones as he pulled away, taking Ryan’s arms with him. “I’m sure your arms are too.”

“It was a good workout,” Ryan said, both mentally and physically.

“I don’t know how couples could hug for hours,” Shane furrowed his eyebrows, rubbing the back of his neck. He did not show any sign of crying, his eyes weren’t red and he did not seem upset at Ryan for touching him. “Hugging a shorter human is painful.”

“We’re not a couple,” Ryan puffed out his chest, watching the warm air from his breath mingle with the cold. “And I’m hungry, Shane.”

“Oh!” As if a lightbulb turned on in Shane’s mind, he jumped away and grabbed onto Ryan’s forearm. “You’re _starving!_ My husband is hungry! We must go now!”

Though he wanted to tell him that they weren’t married, he couldn’t bring himself to and instead laughed excitedly as Shane took them both away to the restaurant across the street, away from his past.

 

* * *

 

“I’m just saying that you couldn’t live in England without having gin everyday.”

“I’m surprised you never had alcohol poisoning.” 

“I’m full of surprises, baby.”

The pub Shane chose was the oldest building Ryan’s ever seen. (Older than the café in Canada.) 

Ancient both inside and out, it was next to the restaurant they had ate at (delicious steamed vegetables and steak) which was, for one, convenient and kept Shane happy with the amount of gin they had. People gathered inside of the pub when they got there but kept two empty seats near the bar for them, _another_ coincidence.  

The interior reminded Ryan of Tasty’s bar, an older version of what could have been the restaurant he worked at. Lights hung from the rooftops, brick walls with aged frames of women in silk dresses, couches and chairs that could have been from the thrift store across the street from Ryan’s house. It was dusty inside, disorderly, yet, the beer was brewed to perfection so he couldn’t complain. 

It was probably nostalgic for Shane.

“You’re thinking a lot again,” Shane drank his beer, foam lingered on his upper lip and he licked it up. “You don’t have to observe every detail of the place.” 

“Sometimes I feel like I do,” Ryan admitted, he looked over to the crowd, a couple sat next to them, talking amongst themselves and the bartender’s laughing with a man by the corner of the bar. “It’s like a brand new world and I have to see _everything_.”

“Very observant, you’ve always been a curious one. Asking questions, _threatening me,_ a _deity_.”

“I really don't care,” Ryan gave him a half shrug and a smile.

The man who was talking to the bartender moved slightly, showing a brand new face staring at Ryan.

It was a woman, she held her gaze as she suggestively winked. She was pretty, short blonde hair falling off her shoulders and bright eyes as she took in Ryan’s form. If it weren’t for the familiar sting of frigid air, he would have thought that she was human and alive. 

“I see ghosts anyway, a deity wouldn’t be placed on a pedestal,” Ryan smirked, a flush crept up his face as he averted his eyes from the woman and to Shane, his betrothed of a deity who hated ghosts. “Especially you.” 

But Shane was looking at the woman already, squinted at her as if that would make her leave.

“She’s not doing anything, leave her be.”

“She’s bothering me. I’m drunk and annoyed.”

“Oh no,” Ryan downed the rest of his beer, feeling the familiar burn run down his throat and drowning him further into a careless drunk.

He had the sudden urge to tell the woman that he wasn’t looking to date a spirit and that his husband would disintegrate her if she spoke to him. He doesn’t know what pressed him to think about it, maybe it was Shane. Shane, who had downed nearly a _litre_ of alcohol and clung to him.

It was probably the alcohol. 

“His Majesty is annoyed. Whatever shall we do?”

Shane turned his head to him and gave him a glare. He noticed Ryan’s glass empty and downed his though it had been full, Shane swallowed every last drop, his adam's apple bobbed as he drank.

He wasted no time to slam the glass on the counter and rose from his stool, throwing bills alongside his empty drink even though he had already paid and tipped the bartender.

“Here’s a suggestion, _we_ leave,” Shane pivoted to Ryan as he sat on his stool, “there’s a convenience store that I want to check out, I could buy you all the foreign candy that you want.” 

“ _All_ the—” Ryan perked up, straightening his back and pushed himself off the stool. Shane grabbed his coat first and helped him put it on, even for someone who consumed a shit load of alcohol, he moved hastily and gave no hint that he was shit faced.  

“Candy?” 

“Yes, you overgrown child, all the candy. I have the gold for it.”

“I’m sure you do! I haven’t had candy in such a long time, not even a chocolate bar, not since I was a child I think. Do you think they have kinder eggs here? I had them when I was younger—hey stop glaring at her, we’re outside!” Ryan started to walk away first, leaving Shane to be an idiot on his own. “You have no right to be jealous of a ghost. It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“We’re married,” Shane corrected or tried to because he’s wrong. They’re not married. “A ghost who likes you, isn’t that a new one? I’m only jealous because I’m drunk and I’m afraid that if I stop I would fall over.”

“Why on earth did you drink so much? Do deities get hangovers? I know that I do.” The hangover from the New Years party was brutal, it lasted two days and kept him on a foul mood for most of it. It fucking hurt. 

“No,” Shane grinned, taking his eyes away from the window and jogged to catch up with Ryan. “I don’t get hungover but I do get drunk.”

“Don’t drink so much,” Ryan frowned, “alcoholism is a real problem among humans.”

“I’m a deity,” Shane corrected him again, “If you ask me not to drink as much then I won’t drink as much.”

“It’d be nice if you’re doing it for yourself and not me.”

“Everything I do is for you,” Shane addressed casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But also I do it for _me_. Being with you benefits me, your marital energy—” 

“Stop it, you’re bothering me now.”

Shane gave him a toothy smile as they walked alongside London’s street. It was serene during this time of night, people walked across or towards them with their heads down. Still, the roads remained vacant, parked cars on the driveway and the building’s lights turned off indicating that it was bedtime for London. Though, Los Angeles’ timezone ran through Ryan’s blood and he knew that it was only six. 

The convenience store that Shane took them to looked nothing like one, there was no sign nor advertisements on the windows. Yet, Ryan could see the aisles of junk food and candy from the outside and once he was dragged inside by drunk Shane, he wasted no time.

“I deserve this,” Ryan munched on a piece of chocolate, he didn’t know what it was until the delicious, smooth texture of caramel stuck to the hood of his mouth. “I haven’t had chocolate in _years_. I deserve this.”

“You do, sweetie.” Shane mumbled, he was leaning on the edge of an aisle. Of course he was, he was tall. 

Fluorescent lights hurt Shane's eyes and he kept squinting them at Ryan whenever he got too close to the frozen aisle.

“Do you want anything else…” Shane whirled around, in a drunken stupor, he touched every single bag of chips down to the candy he had already raided.

“No…” Ryan narrowed his eyes, closing the wrapping paper on the chocolate slowly. If he moved quickly, the bear (Shane) would attack him. Especially drunk ones, they were ones that were feared the most. “I think I’m good.”

He watched as Shane sluggingly walked, his long legs kept stepping over each other and Ryan held a laugh from erupting in the silent coincidence store. Shane and himself the only customers inside, along with a woman and the teenage cashier glaring at them with no sign to hide it.

“Okay big guy,” Ryan grabbed his candy, shoved it into the plastic bag and walked over to Shane—who know is holding up toothbrushes for Ryan to see.

“You want one? Do you? I can buy you this entire store!”

“Don’t be so loud, let's go. I have to walk out all the food I ate.”

“You didn’t eat enough,” Shane grumbled, his breath no longer had the minty smell from before and instead of all the liquor he consumed. Though, Shane wasn’t an angry drunk, no, he was a happy one who stumbled to the floor when he tried to take a bag of pretzels.

Giggling, Ryan saw the teenager stand from his stool furiously and he scrambled to pick his companion up from the god—knows filthy floor.

“Get up you barbarian.”

“I was one a millenia ago,” Shane held onto Ryan’s shoulders, laughing as his head bowed down to Ryan’s neck. Once he was outside again, he let out the loudest laugh that Ryan had ever heard. He knew that Shane would regret it in the morning and it didn’t stop him from asking.

“Weren’t barbarians bad people?”

“I am a bad people.”

“Bad _person_ ,” Ryan frowned. “You’re not a barbarian, I take it back.”

Shane let himself up, as if he wasn’t drunk at all and turned his head to Ryan. He did not speak, he stood there outside of the convenience store with pursed lips and deep dark circles under his eyes. Ryan’s heart leaped when he let out another laugh, louder than the last and threw an arm around Ryan’s shoulder. 

Their height difference made it difficult to walk, nonetheless, Ryan kept himself close to Shane in fear that he would try and go back to the store and buy everything they had. Shane said nothing else until they were close to a park, an open area void of London’s tired citizens. 

Ryan kept to himself, comically watching as Shane walked around the streetlamps, holding himself close to them whenever he spun himself into sudden nausea. Once he did it three times, Ryan intervened and handed him a piece of chocolate.

“I will throw up if I eat that.”

“You need sugar in your body,” Ryan beckoned and forced the piece of chocolate on Shane’s lips. “You need to eat before you turn into a madman.”

Shane snorted but opened his mouth to chew on the chocolate. “I bought it for you to eat, not for me.”

“It will be the last time you buy something for me,” Ryan adjusted the plastic bag on his forearm, he was drained. Taking care of a drunk deity who loved to run around playfully was a workout in itself. His throat ached, the liquor he had hours before caught up to him when he kept laughing at Shane’s antics. 

“Never…” Shane held himself on a streetlamp, he smiled. There wasn’t enough light in London, Ryan realized. Their night sky devoid of stars but rain clouds, the moisture in the air abundant to make Ryan’s hair stick to his forehead. Not only that, the cold came into play and nearly froze him in place. 

“I like buying you things.” 

“It was nice when I didn’t have a job but I’m a grown man. I can pay for my own things.”

Shane hummed, then leaned his head on the pole as if he was actually _thinking_ about it. “You’re right, I’m running out of gold and it’s gotten harder to plan a heist in 2017.”

“Just add that to the list,” Ryan suggested, yawning immediately afterwards. He was tired for sure. His muscles yearned for his bed to take him away until morning.

Shane didn’t comment on it, though, his eyes told Ryan many things. He did not recount the times he lived in London to Ryan at the bar nor through dinner. He doubted that he would anytime soon. Ryan didn’t exactly want to hear about it, if it caused Shane great misery and guilt whenever he visited, why bring those memories back to plague him?

Perhaps he lost a loved one in a plague?

Ryan gulped. Could that be it? How many lovers had Shane lost? He was over a thousand years old, surely he had many lovers that he had seen die before his eyes. 

Almost too afraid to ask, Ryan distracted himself by opening his plastic bag and taking out his saved chocolate bar. He took three large bites before Shane’s eyes averted away from the night sky to him.

“Why are you eating like that?” He asked, both eyebrows rose. He didn’t sound drunk then but by the way he kept himself standing with the streetlamp said otherwise. “You’ll choke, take it easy.”

Ignoring him, Ryan took another large bite and chewed slower before swallowing it all. If Shane had lovers in the past. Didn’t that mean he also had a betrothed?

Who cares? Who in their right mind would live centuries and not indulge in such acts? Especially marriage?

Oh god. 

“You are overthinking _a lot_ ,” Shane’s voice was nothing but a whisper, and Ryan told himself to pay attention to his surroundings. “I’m drunk, I can’t understand anything.” 

_Don’t do it. Don’t ask him—_

“How many lovers have you had?”

Shane blinked, dumbfounded. Ryan’s cheeks flushed when Shane chuckled and threaded a hand through his hair. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.”

Shane placed his hand on the frozen pole and rested his chin on top of it. It was odd of him to do that but Ryan didn't question it, considering that he would fall over and crack open his skull if he had no way of support his tall stature. 

“I don’t remember.” 

“Figures, you're ancient.”

“Easy,” Shane giggled, looking at Ryan. “Do you _want_ to know the exact number?”

“Is it around the thousands?”

“Could be,” Shane teased, shrugging his shoulders. “I did have lovers. None do I remember well. That would probably make you happy.”

Ryan took another bite of his chocolate bar, he ate most of it by now and he offered the rest to Shane, who only opened his mouth to be fed. “Why would that make _me_ happy?”

“Because when I’m not with you, I can still remember your face.”

“ _Don’t—_ ” Ryan tossed the plastic bag to Shane, but only missed by a margin as he laughed. “Don’t say things like that!”

“It’s true!” 

“How many betrotheds have you had before me? What number am I on?”

Shane’s smile fell, he still kept himself up by the streetlamp. He hesitated, opening his mouth to answer Ryan’s question and realized that he couldn’t. It wasn’t hard to understand, Shane loved people in the past, he asked them to marry him probably. But why didn’t they remove the sword—

“The first and the last.”

“Huh?” Ryan turned his gaze back to Shane, “what?”

“You’re the only one.” 

Well.

Ryan twitched, he balled his fists around the plastic bag and threw it again to the side of Shane’s stomach. “Stop that! Don’t say embarrassing things!” He shrieked, watching as Shane tried to avoid his subtle attacks.

“Get off the lamp, let's fight, here and now.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on, you don’t get to say shit like that and get away with it.”

“No, I mean, _Ryan_ , I can’t.” This time, Shane jerked away from the streetlamp but the hand wrapped around the pole didn't. He was… frozen to the lamp. “It hurts and I’m _drunk_ help me.”

The first thing Ryan did was laugh then the next was to throw the bottle of soda he bought into Shane’s hand to thaw the ice. He smelled like oranges on the way home— _anything but beer_ , Ryan thought.

 

* * *

 

When you’re in love, your entire routine, the one that you had been putting effort into for _years_ changes. Everything is new, you would have the urge to clean every room in your house then re-decorate it, cook a meal fit for a family of seven and sit in front of your planned shitty list and scratch it out. Starting anew. 

That’s what Google told Shane to do and that’s exactly what he had done.

Wearing a loose bandana on his head, he sighed and threw himself down on his couch. He reeked of bleach and he was abundantly sweaty, the bandana didn’t do much but cover most of his disheveled hair. In other words, he looked like his friend from the 1960s whenever she cleaned. 

He sweeped, dusted and mopped every room, he remodeled the spare room and Steven’s room, though, his bedroom stayed the same. There was no need to change it, it was perfect.

(Steven would be angry, he never liked when Shane touched his things. He almost felt like his mom, digging through his room afraid to find porn magazines.) 

He cooked, or is in the process of doing so. He had a turkey in the oven and his stomach told him that he might not be the one to eat it because he didn’t necessary want turkey today. Maybe Steven would eat it, it’ll be a peace offering for what he had turned his bedroom into, he wouldn’t kill him after he’s stuffed with turkey. 

And now, Shane sat in front of his crumbled list. He chewed on the end of the pen forlornly, his eyes read the same words he written decades before. The paper smelled, it’s aroma convinced Shane to just rip it into various pieces and throw it out.

The words had faded, anything past _New York_ , now a memory in Shane’s head. (Expect he has the memory of a turnip, he doesn’t remember chronologically.)

New York was crossed out, Los Angeles was nearly there, he saw the mark he had done with his pen whenever he had gotten agitated and wanted to leave. 

This list had been his guide, his light in the darkness whenever he had no plan of who to be and where to go. He would write it down in the faded margins, promises that he hoped to meet and never would. Now that he looked at it, it almost seemed as if he was _looking_ for somebody.

And so he has found him in Los Angeles— and Shane would have  _never_ guessed it. He wrote _found him_ in the margin next to Los Angeles before crossing Barcelona and New Orleans out.

Regretting it immediately, Shane panicked and held the paper out, the crossed out names of the cities he was hoping to live in _gone_ and now he had nothing to guide him.  

_A lie. You do._

He has no choice. When you’re in love, your routine changes. You would do anything for the person you love and now that Shane had no reason to leave him, he had no future, he didn’t need a list.

He crumbled it up, then ripped it into pieces until the words are unreadable. He saw the _found_ and _him_ next to each other and crumbled those up too.  

He threw it away into the trash, took his broom and stomped out of the kitchen to the living room.

“What in the hell are you wearing?”

Shane paused, holding the neck of the broom in his hand and turned to the voice from the front door. Steven stood there, wearing the same clothes he left for school on, his backpack nearly touching the floor as he gaped at Shane’s appearance.

“I look sexy right?” 

“You look like a housewife,” Steven sniffed, “is that turkey?”

“I cleaned your room darling,” Shane began to sweep his living room, he already did but doing it again didn’t hurt him. “How was school?”

“You did what?”

“Did you make any friends today?”

“What is happening? What did Ryan do?”

“Everything,” Shane replied to him this time, not bothering to stop sweeping and picked up Steven’s backpack from the floor. He handed it him, a subtle sign that said _put it in your room, child_. “I’m stressed.”

“I know,” Steven threw his backpack on the couch, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, _really_?”

“I love him, Steven. I need to ask him out.”

Because Shane’s back was turned from Steven, he could not see what reaction he had. For a few minutes, he heard no response from Steven and he assumed that he took himself to his room and finally saw the calamity of his room and fainted. But when Shane turned around to check on the turkey, Steven stood there, confused.

“Are you surprised?”

“You mean… you’re _not_ dating?”

“What? No,” Shane crinkled his nose, he rested the broom on the wall and sat down again. “He told me that we didn’t _have_ to date. But I love him and I want to tell him.”

“All this time… you weren’t dating… do you have any idea how many people I’ve told you were dating someone?” 

“I just don’t know _how_. He thinks that every lunch date we have are friend dates. I tried kissing him in London, it didn’t work!” 

“You went to London?” 

Shane let out a shaky breath and buried his hands in his hair, making sure not to mess up his bandana. “Steven, I really don’t know what to do here.”

“Are you in love with him?” 

“Yes! Haven’t you been listening?”

“Oh, my god,” Steven guffawed, sitting beside Shane. He was the epitome of amusement when he heard him say such a thing. He must have noticed Shane’s flushed cheeks because his smile grew.

“You’re in love with Ryan Bergara!”

“I am in love with Ryan Bergara,” Shane confessed, scratching his chin. “Ryan Bergara is in love with me platonically.”

“Don’t we know it,” Steven agreed bemusedly, he slapped Shane’s knee and rose from the couch. “Haven’t you tried to get him something? Valentine’s Day is around the corner.” 

“You’re right... Do you think he likes—”

“Don’t start that up again,” Steven jumped, glaring and pointing at finger at Shane and his bandana. Afraid for his bandana, Shane covered it with his hands and watched Steven leave into the kitchen.

“I already bought him chocolates in London,” he declared from the living room, “and flowers. What else would he want?”

“It’s different when you give those things to him on Valentine’s day,” Steven answered, the odor of his turkey filled the room. He had taken it out from the oven, it wasn’t ready in the slightest but Steven must have been hungry. “Be good to him, give him as much love as _you_ , Shane can.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. He was the last person to talk about love with.

He didn’t know much about it rather, he knew nothing about love. All he knew was that sex was an option, marriage wasn’t real and that people didn’t fall in love much more fell in love of the idea _of_ love.

If Ryan knew that’s what Shane thought, then his chances would be closer to zero.

He was serious about what he had told Ryan in London, he had lovers, most of them had been flings or one night stands that he picked up. None of them came back for Shane, the ones he remembered confessed to him and were profoundly rejected when they couldn’t describe the sword to him. He never loved, he never dated so, in other words, he would be shitty at love.

“Communication is important,” Steven then told him, he brought out a plate of turkey, sat down on his couch and turned on the television. A romantic movie appeared on the screen, it was his luck to see Sandy and Danny from _Grease_ dance around making googly eyes at each other. “Talk to him, tell him how you feel.” 

“What is he doesn’t feel the same?” Shane threw himself back on the crease of his couch, watching Sandy talk about how in love she was and wished that his couch would swallow him whole. 

“You wouldn’t know if you don’t talk to him.”

Both of them sat in shared silence, they watched the movie with disinterest, or rather, Shane did. His mind was somewhere else, but Steven ate his surprisingly-cooked turkey happily and watched the movie.

If Ryan reciprocated his feelings, then that would the last of Shane. He wouldn’t delay the topic of the sword for the rest of his life, when Ryan grew old and he stayed young. One accidental move from Ryan could leave them both in despair and if that were Ryan’s life (to worry about the blade,) then Shane would rather himself to die beforehand.

His routine changed, alongside his promises. He promised that he would tell Ryan he loved him, if he felt the same, he would die by his hands. To spiral down in the void, finally in peace and to look after Ryan as he grew old with time and lived his life.

“I will die if I tell him that I love him,” Shane admitted unexpectedly.

“Confessions are hard,” Steven reassured, laughing over a piece of turkey. “You feel like you’d rather be eaten alive than to admit you love somebody.”

He obviously didn’t get his point and Shane grew silent as Steven left and as Danny took Sandy into his arms and away into the sunset. He did not move until he heard Steven scream, he must have seen his room.

 

* * *

 

A month into his last semester, Ryan found himself requesting an extra shift at work. His days dragged on, he’ll wake up, attend his classes, eat with Shane, work and sleep. And in between, he’d find time for himself in the sanctuary of his school’s library with Jen and Maycie. 

He fell into a comfortable routine with Shane too. They visited three other cities within the country, most of which that Shane had lived in more than once. When asked why he risked to be seen and recognized, he told Ryan that it had been before America _was_ America.

(“What the hell were you doing here?”

“I don’t remember. I think the Aztecs kept me hostage for a while.”) 

Seattle was the first city he took Ryan to, there wasn’t a distinct difference between Los Angeles and rainy, cold Seattle, except for the fact that there was absolutely nothing to do there. Shane, offended by his remark, teleported the both of them atop of the Space Needle so Ryan could see the _entire_ city. He only clung to Shane for dear life, there wasn’t a lot of room for both of them, especially when _one_ of them had been the size of the building itself.

After that, Ryan ran away from Shane when he asked him to visit Miami with him; he ran in fear that Shane would this time teleport them in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He didn’t.

And Miami was humid as hell, hot and he could still feel his palms clamp up from the heat. The beaches were gorgeous though, and they danced through the night with the promise to return during Spring Break.

(His favorite memory of Miami was when Shane decided to challenge old Cuban men with a game of dominos and lost.) 

Shane took him to Texas when February began. He had no story as to why, he said that he had lived there for the hell of it. He took Ryan to a rodeo show, one that was near his old house. It was stupid and they didn’t dress up like cowboys but once Shane had him drink over five gallons of root beer, the fair wasn’t as bad as he imagined it would be.

(Shane was dunked into a pool of water, all thanks to his muscular arm and his fantastic throw.)

That had been a week ago, before he prepared himself for his friend-date with Brent. He had been too busy entertaining Shane as of late to even have a chance to ask him about their lunch date. Brent had been estatic when Shane didn’t show up for Ryan after class and they both had a wonderful lunch in the same sandwich shop Shane took him to months before.

Brent was nice to him, he always had been. But holding a conversation with him was harder than it deemed possible. Brent loved to talk about his major and his future internship as an assistant for a psychiatrist at a clinic downtown.

Ryan couldn’t relate to any of it, maybe because he’s been _going with the flow_ and prayed that Shane had other acquaintances to recommend him sometime in the future.

Their date was eventful but by the end of it, Ryan wanted to go home and sleep. He knew it had been rude to leave Brent to walk home alone, but he didn’t necessarily like the idea of going home with him.

“Long day?”

Ryan rested his chin on his palm and jerked his head over to the direction of his boss, Kelsey. She was sweeping the back of the restaurant, she had been doing it to the rhythm of her playlist blasting through the barren store.

She raised an eyebrow at him when he shrugged in response. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and straightened up, holding the broom to her side. “Long… date?”

“It doesn’t make me a bad person, right?” Ryan slumped his shoulders, he had distracted himself with cleaning the bar and didn’t let the friend-date from yesterday consume his thoughts with unnecessary anxiety. He hoped that Brent didn’t ask him again just in case, he didn’t want to seem rude if he rejected him in front of Kelsey. 

“No,” Kelsey replied, she placed the broom on the edge of the bar’s counter and sat on the stool to face him. “I had bad dates before too. It doesn’t make you a bad person that you hate it.”

“I didn’t hate it,” Ryan echoed, letting his arms fall to his side. “It was just…”

“Boring? Depressing? Not fun? _Shane less_?”

Ryan threw her a glare, “I knew I wasn’t ready for this. He’s so nice, how could I let him down easily next time?” 

“There’s a next time?”

“He said _see you later_ , _let's do this again_. And I nodded! Like an idiot!” Ryan threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “I lied to the poor guy!”

Kelsey nibbled on her bottom lip, watching her employee explode in front of her. “Poor baby. Get over it, move on. Men are useless. In other words, I’m dating someone now. We’re… a couple.”

“You’re finally settling down?” Ryan taunted, taking the damp cloth on the bar counter. When he threw his arms in the air, his right hand accidently knocked over a cup of coke on the counter. He began to clean his mess when Kelsey scoffed.

“Settling down, you sound like my mother. No, I am not.” She toyed with a strand of her hair, “he’s just the romantic type. Or tries to be, he’s trying a bit too hard…”

“You could cut him some slack,” Ryan lifted his chin at the sound of a ringing bell, a couple walked in, a woman clinging on what seemed to be her boyfriend. They both give them wide smiles as they took their seats near the window. Oh right, it was Valentine’s Day. 

Kelsey looked too, she did not smile back at them and pursed her lips. He could understand why, the man had been carrying a box of chocolates and bags that could have belonged to his girlfriend. 

“How can I? When today’s the day where people fuck in public and don’t get arrested. He hasn’t called or visited once!”

“If it makes you feel better,” Ryan began, taking a set of menus for the couple and when he returned, Kelsey’s frown grew. “Stop frowning—if it makes you feel better, I hadn’t gotten anything for Valentine’s day since I was in first grade.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” Kelsey grumbled, wrinkling her nose. “You reminded me that first graders are at least giving each other cards while I have nothing. That’s sad.”

“I’m your equal.”

“As if,” Kelsey huffed, the couple had their menus in hand but they talked amidst each other instead of reading. They looked happy, excited for the day they were having together. “You got Shane.”

Ryan paused, sticky cloth in hand and blinked at her. “That’s not—” he chuckled nervously. “He’s not _romantic_ , he’s not even my boyfriend.”

“Oh please, you must be out of your mind to think that I hadn’t noticed you and him running off to god knows where.” Kelsey drummed her hands on the bar counter, giving him the widest smile he’s ever seen on her face. “If I knew better, I would think that you were going on _dates_.”  
  
“That’s—”

Not wrong. She’s not wrong. Since December, all they had been doing is going out to eat together, shopping together, they even watched movies together for god’s sake. He was unconditionally _dating_ Shane, platonically, of course. And he hadn’t realized it as of now.

“That doesn’t make him romantic.”

Kelsey opened her mouth to reply when the restaurant’s bell rang, it echoed in Ryan’s ears as he discarded the cloth. Kelsey turned her head first to the noise, her frown apparent from the supposed new couple that had walked in. When her frown disappeared, she rose from her seat and beamed.

Ryan stood up too, turning his head over to the sight of… flowers? Roses?

Kelsey stood in front of somebody holding a large number of bouquets in their arms, the roses hid their face, along with the balloons tightly wrapped around their stems. Each balloon almost hit the rafters and in fear that they would tangle themselves in the lights above, Kelsey took the arm holding the roses and moved them further inside.

“Well, look at that.” Kelsey rested her hands on her hips, “It must be for me! I have lots of admirers, you see.” 

Ryan laughed, and Kelsey moved to take one of the notes in the bouquet. Her eyes narrowed as she read and then, let out the loudest laugh that made the smiley, happy couples turn their heads and gape in awe at the sight.

“What is it? Who is it from?”

Kelsey flushed, her entire face turned to a brilliant red as she pressed her hand on her cheek, the note in her hand as she continued to read it.

“It’s not for you,” from his spot in the bar, Ryan could recognize the raspy voice and Shane’s head popped out from the hundreds of flowers in his arms. “It’s for him.” He pointed his chin at Ryan, whereas his boss, the customers and _Shane_ looked at him.

Kelsey let out another laugh and strut over to his side. She handed him the note but he made no effort to read it. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the roses and at Shane’s distraught smile.

Shane fidgeted and the roses went along with him. One of the balloons hit the side of his face, “I… uh… saw them when I was going to work and, uh… I… they reminded me of you… so I—”

“So you bought the entire _stand_?”

“Not exactly… I left the yellow daisies there, I know you don’t like those.”

Ryan covered his mouth with his hand, slowly walking to Shane. He looked embarrassed and Ryan _was_ embarrassed for him. Yet, he straightened himself and tried to extend the dozens of roses over to Ryan.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to carry all of them.”

“I know,” Shane replied, “take some of them, please help me, my arm is cramping.”

Kelsey moved swiftly, taking most of the bouquets from Shane’s arms. She was still blushing, she tried to keep her gaze away from Shane, even though he didn’t make any effort to lock eyes with her.

When void of the flowers, Shane’s shirt was covered in leaf residue and rose pedals, he wore his usual work attire, a collared shirt and a blazer. His hair was gelled up again and his jaw cloaked with his stubble.

He adjusted the blazer and groomed himself as best as he could before looking up at Ryan with another smile.

“Terrible timing big guy,” Ryan told him, he turned to where Kelsey placed his roses and balloons on an empty booth. “You love to make dramatic entrances, don’t you?” 

“Not only am I mysterious, I am romantic.”

“Don’t we know it,” Kelsey quipped, leaning her forearm on the counter and wiggled her eyebrows at Shane. Shane, confused, gave Ryan a look of desperation and then of betrayal when Ryan left him for the couple ready to order.

“I’m Kelsey,” Ryan heard Kelsey announce as he walked away.

“I know… uh, don’t eat his chocolates, they’re expensive and he likes them.” Ryan bit down his laugh as he wrote the couple’s order on his notepad. “You can’t take his flowers either.”

The woman on the table noticed his reddened cheeks and teased him about it, thankfully, he had been too happy to hide it and instead told her that it was the tall idiot’s fault.

“What about the balloons?” 

“Take the balloons. I have no use for them,” Ryan announced, arranging the plastic plates for chips at the counter. Shane clutched his chest and gasped, pretending that his comment wounded him greatly.

Kelsey cheered, “see, I told you that he wouldn’t—”

“You can’t have the flowers,” Ryan added, ducking his head and concentrated on the tortilla chips. If he looked at them hard enough, perhaps they would disintegrate with his gaze.

“They’re mine.” With that, he walked to the couple to give them their food, ignoring Shane’s smile, his crinkled eyes and nose as he taunted Kelsey.

 

* * *

 

Stacking up the last of the boxes in the storage room, Ryan blew out his cheeks and lifted a hand to his flushed cheek. The storage room was stuffy, humid, it had to be, to _be_ a storage room. He stood there, catching his breath when he heard somebody call his name from the restaurant.

Already untying his apron, he smiled at Steven tiresomely. Steven gave him a worried look and reached for him when he stumbled on the counter. “Go home, Ryan. It’s already eight.”

“I was on my way… I just have to—" 

“Hey, man, I’ll do it for you,” Steven cut him off, pointing his chin to the boxes on the other side of the restaurant. “Just go home. You have been working nonstop this week, Kelsey is pissed.”

Ryan gulped, that was never a good sign. Kelsey never got mad at him if he took extra shifts at the restaurant unless he surpassed his forty hour limit or in this case, working his ass off to avoid somebody.

“I understand,” Ryan mumbled dejectedly, taking his things and passed by Steven, his hair covering his eyes but the way he had fidgeted told Ryan that he had wanted to ask him something.

Knowing what he’ll ask, Ryan snapped his mouth shut when Steven opened his. He sighed instead, smiled and told Ryan to go home and rest. Oh, that’s new, he actually gave up.

Steven had been inviting Ryan over to Shane’s house after work, usually he’d agree and walk with him but the day after Valentine’s, Ryan had rejected the invitation.

After that, Ryan kept himself busy with overflowing homework, depressing lectures and extra shifts at work. He would sometimes leave before Steven came in to pester him, or god forbid, the man of the hour, Shane. However, Shane hadn’t made an effort to visit him since last Tuesday.

He supposed that he had been embarrassed to. The day of, Shane didn’t invite him out since he actually _was_ going to work, he texted that they’d do something afterwards but didn't show up and texted him again that he was stuck with paperwork and that he’d see him around.

He hadn’t heard a peep from Shane since, apart from Steven telling him that Shane was working all the time like he was. (Except, Shane would scold him for working until his bones ached.) The fault didn’t lie on Shane though, Ryan never texted back or called him or even tried to summon him the old fashioned way.

Sure, what he had done for him made Ryan happy but he also needed time to gather his thoughts. And for the first time since he’s met Shane, he didn’t know _what_ they were.

They had a thing, a routine going on but lately, Ryan didn’t like the idea of being near Shane even for a few hours. He wasn’t scared of commitment—he was scared of commitment _with_ Shane. Ryan knew that cooping himself in his room or losing himself at his job wasn’t the solution but it was a hell a lot better than crying over him.

Ryan was no teenager, he could handle this. It wasn’t anything he _couldn’t_ handle. He just… needed time alone.  

He took his time getting home, the sun had set long ago and the night was colder now, he took advantage of this and nestled into his mother’s scarf to calm himself down. So, he was confused, what then? 

What then? He didn’t know.

Surely, if Shane had brought him flowers, balloons and chocolates _on Valentine’s Day_ , he had to like him a little bit right? Where did Ryan lie on the spectrum? Did he like him too?

When you like somebody, you see them differently, their eyes or their jawbone stick out to you and yet when Ryan thought of Shane like that all he could think about is how miserable his eyes were or how his beard covered most of his jawline every now and then.

Letting out a shaky breath, Ryan watched as his warm air collided with the L.A’s winter air. It was cold today, a new record of fifty degrees and Ryan had a jacket that Shane bought him. Because Shane bought him everything… he always paid for him…

Groaning, Ryan rubbed his hands over his face.

How could he be so blind? It was obvious now. Shane _liked_ him.

Ryan walked into his empty house, he had missed dinner, not that it had mattered. His aunt left him to eat in his room whenever she made something to eat. He didn’t mind, he _really_ needed time alone to think. As he passed through the kitchen, no sudden warmth hit him and his leftovers sat on a paper plate with aluminum foil.

He ate alone in his desk, squished between two vases of roses. While he was alone, Shane’s flowers kept him company, just like they had from day one.

Chewing slowly on his potato salad, Ryan’s eyes narrowed on the yellow note in his desk. Stacked on top of a previous one that Shane had given him and, this one Ryan had not bothered to read. He threw his fork on the plate and stood from his rickety chair, his fingers trembled as he reached for it.

He read it, once, twice, he let its words to flow into his mind. His brain tried to comprehend them but they were only letters to him, it didn’t seem like a complete sentence and he only could understand the words _sorry_ and _Ryan._

Had he been too distracted to read a simple note? Compared to the notepad of orders he’d read earlier, this note was his kryptonite and if he solved it’s cryptic message, he might die of anxiety. 

The forth time he read it, he did not die but he got it. He understood.

Ryan let himself fall back first onto his dusty bedsheets. He held the note above his head and read it again, out loud.

_Sorry, I wasn’t thinking of the later, I was only thinking of you Ryan. But how would you get all these flowers home? Get Steven to carry them for you. —Shane_

“Idiot,” Ryan muttered and snorted, he sniffed as the words blended as one in his dim lit bedroom. He wasn’t thinking, Shane wasn’t thinking about the consequences that would consume Ryan for the next _week_. But his handwriting, it was, in words, atrocious.

How could he be a professor with handwriting like this? His words made no sense, was he writing in a hasty manner? When he took his damn time carrying flowers to him? He was an idiot. A fool.

A fool. 

A fool with a stubble, or a beard, or clean shaven to hold his chin high enough for people to see his jawline. A fool whose eyes lit up when he saw Ryan, a fool who had to physically bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing at Ryan’s comments or a fool who’s arms reached over to Ryan when he had to go to work.

A fool who had said, I’ll text you later, as if they were a couple who would call each other during break or when they clocked off. 

_And what am I?_  

A fool who has a crush.

“Aw, fuck,” Ryan closed his eyes tightly, his arms suddenly heavy as they fell to his chest. The yellow note landed on his face, his hands didn’t let it go but he was tempted to rip it to shreds and be done with it once and for all.

As he was about to stand up to get ready for bed, he shuddered and shimmied into his bedsheets. He caught the fragrance of rosemary through his nostrils and pursed his lips. Somebody was in his room. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Ryan let the note fall to his side as he groaned. “I should have known it was you,” he opened his eyes and turned his head to Jen’s form. “You smell weird.”

Jen eyebrows furrowed, she placed both hands on her hips as she looked down at him. This was the first time she’d walked into his room since he was a teenager and she looked _pissed_. 

“I _mean_ ,” she stomped her foot on the ground soundlessly. “What the _hell_ are you doing? Do you _want_ to kill yourself? Do you have any fucking idea how pale you look? Your eyes are sunken into your damn sockets!”

“Leave me be,” Ryan pleaded, he moved his legs to sit up. His thighs screamed at him, they ached as they moved and he let out a gasp. “I’m thinking.” 

“You’re—” Jen bitterly laughed, her voice echoed through his room. “You’re insane. What the hell are you thinking about? What could possibly lead you to work yourself to death?”

Ryan shrugged off his jacket, alongside his shirt and let Jen to watch him change into his pajamas. “Some privacy would be nice.”

“I’m _gay_.” 

“So am I,” Ryan added, “well, I like women—”

“Stop changing the subject, idiot.” Ryan wasn’t the idiot, Shane was. “Ryan, what the hell are you doing to yourself? You can barely move! You’re lucky I’m here instead of Shane because he would—” 

“Well he’s not here now, is he?” Ryan snapped monotonously, he bent down to grab a washed set of pajama pants and shoved them on. He had no shirt but he didn’t mind to sleep half naked tonight.

“I could tell him…” 

Ryan snorted, sitting down on his bed and pushed the bedsheets out to crawl in. “Yeah right, you wouldn’t be near me unless he were to be on the other side of the world.”

“I’m in your room, aren’t I?” Ryan turned to her, she grinned at him. She did have a point. “Well. I am trespassing. Call him, call your love-sick husband on me.”

Ryan blinked, then crawled inside of his sheets, making sure they engulfed him. “No. He might be tired—” His phone vibrated from where it laid on his desk, Jen damn near floated to it right away and whistled.

“ _Ryan_ , _please call me_ ,” she read his message on his phone. “From Shane, wow, I didn’t even have to go through all of this to get him to—” 

Ryan stood from his bed, he took his phone and looked at it. It was Shane, he _had_ texted him that. “What do I do?”

“What… what do you mean _what do I do_? Call him!”

“I—” His phone vibrated in his hand, Shane sent him another message, a menacing warning from Shane that he would teleport to his house if he did not call him in the next two minutes.

“He’s—” His phone vibrated once more, this time, in a continuous manner as Shane’s name appeared on his screen with the only option to accept his call. Ryan let his finger swipe right on it’s own and connect the call.

“Why are you threatening me?” Ryan grumbled, holding his phone to his ear and walked away from Jen, who initially tried to listen on their conversation. “Is this how you talk to your friends?” 

“ _No hello,_ ” Shane replied, “ _Is this how you talk to your friends, Ryan?_ ”

Ryan frowned, and bit on his nail. He didn’t speak for a few seconds but let Shane breathe through the receiver. On the other line, Ryan heard unrecognizable voices, it was a woman, then a man, then both spoke together in the background. 

“Are you still at work?” Ryan thought out loud, turning from Jen when she smiled by his side.

“ _Yes. Was it that obvious_?” Shane sighed, Ryan couldn’t see him but he was rubbing his forehead. “ _I still have lots of work to do and I would probably be here until midnight._ ” 

“Then why did you call me?” Ryan asked, he swallowed when Jen gestured to him. Whatever she wanted Ryan to say, it would not happen. “if you had so much work to do?”

“ _I wanted to hear your voice_ ,” Shane told him through the receiver, the voices in the background grew louder as did Ryan’s heartbeat. “ _Marital energy, now auditory!_ ”

Ryan chuckled, he sat down on his bed and bit on his lip to avoid himself from whimpering in pain. If he had, Shane would definitely tease him about it.

“ _Are you home?_ ”  

“Yes,” Ryan nodded, “why would you threaten me about coming to my house if you didn’t know if I was home or not?” 

“ _I’m just making sure you weren’t at work anymore,_ ” Shane answered truthfully, “ _a_ _little ghostie told me that you had been working yourself to death again. Don’t think I don’t know, sweetheart. I know everything._ ”

Leaving Ryan speechless, he turned his head to Jen and she beamed at him. He shook his head as she crossed her arms and bounced around his room. “I see. I know you do. I’m home and I don’t work until Sunday.”

“ _Then let's do something on Friday—_ ” 

“Don’t you have work?”

“— _F_ _riday, Saturday, I would have added Thursday but you need to rest._ ” 

“How thoughtful,” Ryan fell on his pillows, his bedsheets tangled by his legs. Jen pointed at an action figure Ryan had and mouthed _you didn’t have this before, what’s this?_ “What do you have planned?” 

Jen scowled but Shane cleared his throat.

“ _You wanted to move out right? I have some apartments I found for sell at a reasonable price. I would help you if you asked. Oh, also, there’s this restaurant I wanted to take you to, It’s Brazilian. We can’t go to Brazil right now because it’s summer and crowded and you said that you hate parades and that’s all they have—_ ”

Ryan smiled, he adjusted himself on his bed as Shane rambled into his ear. Brazilian sounds appetizing and apartment hunting now was ideal. He was thinking of moving out before spring began, though far-fetched, it was his goal. He had enough money to pay for at least six months worth of rent, Shane didn’t need to help him. He wanted to say all that out loud to him but Shane continued on about Brazil.

At one point, when Ryan was inside of his bedsheets, warm and ready to close his eyes for the night. Shane told him about the time he lived in Brazil, he lived through the South American war of Independence, he said, _wild_ , he called it. He told Ryan that Portuguese was his favorite language and talked to Ryan in said language when Ryan asked him to.

He spoke it fluently, no dialect or accent to it but his words came out flawlessly, like he knew that he was talking about.

(Ryan didn’t. He agreed nonetheless to whatever he was saying.) 

“What was that?” Ryan asked as Shane told him something Portuguese.

“ _I said that you looked handsome a week ago,_ ” Shane repeated slowly, pointing out the words and letting Ryan repeat them. “ _I’ll teach you Portuguese first then I’ll teach you Spanish. Oh! Do you have any interest in Mandarin?_ ”

Sure, Shane. Whatever you want.

Ryan let Shane talk to him in a foreign language again, his voice took him into another realm even there in his bed, exhausted from his forty-hour work week.

He… he liked this. 

He wanted to come home to hear Shane talk to him in whatever language he knew. He wanted him to calm him down from any panic attack he’d have in Spanish, or soothe him to sleep in Korean. Whatever, Shane wanted. So did Ryan.

_You like him. You like him!_

Ryan opened his eyes, Shane continued to talk through the receiver, though a little less rambling and sometimes switched to English as someone else talked to him at work. Ryan squinted at the call time on his phone, 1:34:18 and counting.

Interesting.

He looked for Jen in his room and found her wandering around his closet. She would try to grab onto the hangers, as practice to grab onto other objects. When she couldn’t get it right, she huffed and whirled around to face him.

Her quiff fell into her eyes when she caught Ryan’s eyes, surprised that he had acknowledged her after an hour and a half, she smiled and waved a yellow note in her—

Oh shit.

"How are you  _doing_ that—"

“You’re in love, Ryan Bergara,” she cut him off, tossing the yellow note at him. He furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed as to why she would say that when he took a look at the yellow note. It was the same one he was reading hours ago, though there was something drawn around it.

When Shane spoke in English through the other line, Ryan jolted upright and shone the light from his phone on the note. There were… hearts… all around the words Shane had written. Hearts? Ryan turned to his bedside table where a pen laid, it’s cap next to it.

Jen couldn’t… she wouldn’t have done this. And judging from Ryan’s ink stained fingers, it was him. He had done this.

Something else was written underneath the original message and Ryan bit down a scream. He turned to Jen just to see her gone, and Shane was speaking in Portuguese again. He calmed himself down and pressed his phone to his ear. 1:37:39.

His note fell onto his face for the second time tonight, he shut his eyes tightly and Shane laughed through the receiver.

" _Did you fall asleep? You’ve been quiet for a while_ ,” he said, “ _I’ll let you sleep. Goodnight, Ryan._ ”

No, don’t go. Don’t leave me with—

The line died and Ryan’s left to the words he’d written swirl in his mind. Alone, he tried to remember when he’d written _I like you_ on the damn note. 

 

* * *

 

As promised, Ryan spent his days off resting to gain back the energy he had lost. On the first day, Kelsey ripped him a new one, she stomped over to his house when he gotten home from his classes and scolded him for _hours_. Then she brought him lunch for him to eat as he studied.

The days before Shane came to intervene, he didn’t attend his classes and slept until late afternoon, eating junk food like a maniac. Now that he had a stable job, he had the funds to feed himself and if he wanted chipotle in bed, he’ll get chipotle in bed.

(Quoting the words of dear Shane.)

Speaking of, Shane did take them both to that Brazilian restaurant. Though, he made no appointment and they had to wait outside for an hour together until they could finally eat. Shane felt ashamed, he had told Ryan not to eat anything beforehand and there he was, starving.

Ryan only laughed at him and asked him to teach him Portuguese to order from the menu. He left him at home after, Shane had work and he had to postpone their Saturday plans of _house hunting for Ryan._  

He gave him a list of apartments to check out anyway, Ryan couldn’t say that he was disappointed that Shane couldn’t come with him but looking for apartments _for_ Ryan was enough for him to fanboy over.  

During these past few days, Ryan had time to think over where he stood when it came to Shane. He hadn’t concluded anything and hid the yellow note in his drawer until further notice. 

“But you always blush when you’re around him,” Jen commented, leaning against the white wall of the apartment he was checking out. She pushed her hand forward, trying to move the figurine on the stand but with no avail, it did not move.

“I’m always wearing my scarf,” Ryan replied, tilting his head over to the landlord walking away from them. “I’m always warm because of it, it’s not him.” 

“Wow, I bet that's exactly what it is,” Jen awed, her tone sarcastic, she moved her hand once more and when the object didn’t move, she threw her arms in the air. “I’m getting _so_ close to pushing things now that I can touch _some_ things. Why can’t I do _this_?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Ryan toyed with the strings on the window shutters.

The apartment wasn’t all that bad, it was used for sure, the walls cracked and the main bedroom wallpaper was horrendous. It fit his budget, but not the location. It was too far from his job and UCLA, he had no interest in getting it despite the landlord insisting he'd take a look anyway.

The string on the window shutter came off when he touched it and Ryan gasped as he hid it behind the curtain.

“Practice,” Jen scoffed, “it's something you humans tell each other to make yourselves feel better after you fail.”

“You were a human too,” Ryan grimaced, Jen didn’t seem troubled when she made such a comment, so he let it slide.

“I know, but it’s been years since I died and _now_ I get to touch and hold things?”

“It… is strange, now that you mention it,” Ryan confessed, he kept his eyes on the front door, just in case the landlord of the building didn’t walk in on him speaking to Jen, who was invisible to the human eye. “When did you say it started?”

“A few weeks ago,” Jen answered, sticking out her hand again, this time, the figured _moved_ slightly to the right when her finger touched it. “Ah ha! While I feel powerful as its happening, I don’t like it… It may involve you.” 

Jen bent down next to the figurine and continued to mess with it. Ryan turned his gaze from the door and to her, he narrowed his eyes as she managed to push it onto the brown carpet.

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I’ve been with you for years and now I get to touch things? Maycie can speak to people and they _hear_ her sometimes and Daysha’s been complaining that she’d stumble onto things all the time. I don’t… I don’t know, it’s _weird_.” 

Ryan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t involve me in any ghost-like activities. I can only see and speak to you guys, I’m not—”

“I’m just saying to be careful alright?” Jen retorted, she raised her voice as Ryan snorted. “I’m serious! This has been happening after you met the goblin. You’re a superstitious person, don’t you think it’s weird?”

"His name is Shane," Ryan corrected silently, then turned to the front door when she glared at him and bit his lip. Okay, maybe, it was a little weird.

But Jen’s newfound power didn’t have anything to do with _him_ , he wasn’t a ghost, he wasn’t a deity, he was a human being. How could he be responsible to what happens to them? 

“Anyway, _Shane_ wouldn’t let anything happen to you, worrying about you is unneeded stress. Don’t tell him I said this,” Jen stood up and walked over to Ryan, tapping his shoulder. Her transparent hand went through him like it always would, like it _should_ and she smiled.

“Shane has nothing to do with this either, leave him out of this,” Ryan heard footsteps on the other side of the door, he leaned on the wall and turned to Jen. “He doesn’t like ghosts and he told me that if he saw you again, he would turn you into a pile of ashes. Please try to refrain from visiting him.”

Jen shuddered and the door knob twisted as Ryan’s not-landlord walked in. After telling him that he would think it over, Ryan was sent on his way with two more brochures in hand. None of the apartments that he had seen today were favorable, they had been too expensive or too worn out.

The next day, he visited two more apartments after work with no avail. He knew that it would be hard to find an apartment within his budget and _next_ to a populated plaza where he worked and where _UCLA_  was. It was easier to move out in the summer after graduation, he’ll just avoid his aunt until then, his cousins needed him to be there. 

“How could you give up so easily?” Shane asked a few days later, he watched as Ryan walked past him with his tray of food. “After all I have done for you… searching for those apartments took days! _Days_ , baby!”

“If you need me, just call for me,” Ryan smiled as he stuffed his now empty tray under his arm. His customers, a family of three nodded at him and began to dig in. “Don’t come at me about this, I wouldn’t have any time to move out anyway,” Ryan replied as he stepped away, he greeted a new set of customers.

“You wanted to move out before April! That was the plan!”

“ _Was_ is correct. It's in the past now. Do you want cheddar or provolone?”

“Cheddar, do you want me to continue looking? There’s plenty of apartments out there.”

After he had written his order, Ryan walked to Shane sitting on a stool by the bar.

“I wasn’t talking to you. Besides,” he shoved the order in Kelsey’s slender fingers and she strolled away, not before she gave Shane a wink. “It’s expensive and I don’t want you to pay— _don’t_ even try, shut your mouth—and I don’t have, uh, the energy or motivation to do it as of today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m working.” 

Shane pursed his lip and grew quiet as Ryan moved around to other customers. Surely, a Wednesday didn’t stop customers from arriving at four in the afternoon. He gestured to Shane for a few more minutes before clocking out and falling on a stool next to Shane with a deep sigh.

Ryan rubbed his sweaty forehead and closed his eyes, he was given a pat on the shoulder and opened his eyes to see Steven greet him. Now ready to stuff himself with food, Ryan turned to Shane, who was on his phone. He hadn’t noticed it but Shane had been on his phone for the last twenty minutes since he left him on his own.

Shane didn’t work today, and apart from their daily walk to a deli or a bakery, Shane promised to let Ryan take him somewhere nice for once.

(He sounded excited over the phone, he told him that he had the perfect outfit for their not-so-date.)

Indeed, he looked handsome. Shane wore a knitted sweater similar to Ryan’s, under his darker denim jacket and Ryan’s watch, once again, strapped and ready to go. He had a stubble again but this time, so did Ryan. After many long hours of convincing him, Ryan skipped a few days of shaving to compliment the big guy, in other words, they matched.

Ryan cleared his throat in an attempt to grab Shane’s attention, when that had failed, he jabbed his elbow to Shane’s ribs lightly. Shane looked up from his phone, his thumb hovered over the screen as he turned to Ryan. “Oh, hey, you done?” 

“Yes, I’m ready to eat.” 

“Cool, cool, look at this.” Standing up, Shane pushed his phone to Ryan’s view, he loomed over him as Ryan looked at the screen. It was a website, listing different types of apartments around the area within Ryan’s budget. Shane really didn’t know when to quit. 

Ryan was about to tell him that searching now was a lost cause when Shane twisted Ryan in his stool. He stood with Ryan’s knees on opposite sides of his hips, bashful, Ryan tried to shimmie away when Shane’s hands kept his stool grounded.

They were so close, _too_ close. Close enough for Ryan to smell Shane’s cologne on him, to see every bit of the stubble he had, he really looked handsome today. Ryan decided to entertain him, letting his legs fall beside Shane, he had no other choice but to let Shane stand between his legs.

He was… an interesting fella when he wanted Ryan to _listen_ to him. The idiot leaned forward with a smirk and pointed his chin to the phone. 

Surrendering to Shane’s maneuvers, Ryan scrolled through the list. Some of the apartments looked sophisticated and well-furnished, better than the other ones he’d seen but they had all been a bit over his budget. Some were too big, others too small, one of them had dreadful looking green wallpaper that Ryan would rather live out in his basement of a bedroom than to stare at it as his new living room. 

“You’re too picky,” Shane whined when Ryan told him this, he stabilized himself and moved his hands over to the back of the stool, they were unbelievably close to Ryan’s ass but he didn’t mention it. Shane looked at his phone and scrolled further down and pointed to another apartment. “That one, lets go see it.”

“It’s expensive! More expensive than the one I just told you about!”

“Not everything is about money, Ryan,” Shane tilted his head and continued to scroll down. Shane pointed at another apartment, once _less_ expensive but farther away from Los Angeles and Ryan was a second away to throw the idiot’s phone at the idiot’s head with no remorse when a squeal stopped him.

They both turned their head to the direction of the squeal, Kelsey stood there on the other side of the counter. She clapped her hands and waved her hand over to Steven’s direction. “Come here, look at them!”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at her and Steven, who looked more than amused. “What is this set-up, what the hell are you both doing?” He asked, pointing two fingers at them. 

Puzzled, Ryan followed the direction of Steven’s fingers when he finally realized what they had been fawning over. Somewhere along the way, Shane ended up with his right hand on Ryan’s thigh, the other on the stool, he was still between Ryan’s legs, who (not Ryan, he didn’t do this) decided it would be nice to tangle themselves’ around Shane.

“Uh,” Ryan slowly unwrapped his legs from Shane, thankfully, Shane got the same idea and stood up straighter, scratching his head as he stepped away from Ryan’s legs. “He’s showing me something.” 

“I bet he is,” Kelsey grinned, “what’s up? Apartments for sell?”

“He wanted to move out before April,” Shane explained for him, reaching for his phone and placed it on the counter. “He’s too picky, he wouldn’t decide until next April.” 

“That is if we’re lucky,” Kelsey agreed, she and Steven leaned forward to see the phone, with a manicured finger, Kelsey turned the phone to her direction and scrolled down. “These are too pricey even for myself or my sugar daddy. If you’d like, I’ve moved out of my apartment weeks ago, I haven’t given the key to my landlord, I could ask him to renew the lease under your name.”

Ryan jolted upright from his stool, “you would do that?!”

“Yes,” Kelsey chuckled, she pushed Shane’s phone towards his direction and smiled as it hit him in her abdomen. “I live with my—”

“Sugar daddy, yes, we know." 

“ _Anyways_ , since I don’t live there anymore, I could give you the key and you could move in any time.”

“I—” 

“He’ll take it!”

“Shane!”

Kelsey snapped her fingers and took out her notepad from her apron. She reached for the pen behind her ear and began to write something down, _the address_.

“Here,” she ripped it out, and placed it on the counter. “If you wanted to move out before April, move in this Sunday, landlord always checks the apartment complex on Sundays.” 

“This _Sunday_?”

“You could go check it out _now_ ,” Kelsey turned to Shane and pointed at her bag from the other side of the counter. “My keys are in my purse, next to my lipstick, go take him to see his new house _big guy_.”

“Wait—” 

“You got it,” Shane smiled, he pivoted to Kelsey’s purse, he let out an overexcited _ah ha!_ When he had Kelsey’s old apartment keys in hand, he twirled them in his fingers and turned to Ryan, “let’s go, sweetie pie.”

“This—”

“Just go, Ryan,” Steven sighed, he rubbed the back of his neck and walked away, Kelsey following behind. “Go house hunting, go _rest_.”

“Make sure he’ll eat!”

“I’m a grown man! I can take care of myself!”

Three pairs of eyes glared at him and Ryan shrunk from their gazes. Okay, fine, maybe sometimes.

“At least tell me you don’t have green wallpaper,” Ryan shrugged on his denim jacket, he straightened up and let Shane wrap his mother’s scarf around his neck, he covered his mouth and ears. His watch gleamed with the restaurant’s lights, nearly blinding Ryan when the light reflected to his own eyes.

“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t be caught dead if I had that.”

She was right, neither would Ryan apparently. After both his and Shane’s stomachs were bloated from burgers and fries, they stood in front of the street that Kelsey led them. It was in the opposite direction of both his aunt’s house and Shane’s but in the direction of his job and UCLA... it was perfect.

“It’s a bit far than what I expected...” Shane clicked his tongue and he peered at the newfound street.

The apartment complex stood by an intersection of a shopping centre and other houses, surrounded by other complexes and stores. There were parked cars here, indicating that it was somewhere were tourists liked to lurk and that didn’t settle well with Ryan but it _was_ Kelsey, she loved to be around people.

“It is pretty far from your house, you can’t go back to your words now,” Ryan replied, he walked on the right side of the street and took in the rest of his surroundings. The plaza reminded him of where Tasty was located, it was nearly identical, the apartment complex was raggedy cobble, four stories with a keypad outside of the building.

“Please tell me she gave you the password.”

“She wrote it on this piece of paper,” Ryan squinted, “you must have known her in your past life, both of you have terrible handwriting.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby, let me see,” Shane grabbed onto Ryan’s wrist, raising his arm until he could see the note. Okay… but he didn’t need to do all of that… he could have just asked for the note. Though, Ryan didn’t pull away from his grip and supposedly neither did Shane when he entered the password on the keypad.

His hand was warm around Ryan’s wrist, his fingers were long to encase Ryan’s wrist. His veins popped out in the back of his hand, with thinly cut nails and—

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ryan shook his head, Shane removed his hand from his wrist, poker-faced. “What’s that?” 

“I said, are you ready? You look a bit nervous, is it too much?”

“Oh,” Ryan let out a breath, “yeah, I guess.”

Shane locked eyes with him, if he had his doubts, Shane didn't openly confront him about it. Instead, he grinned and patted Ryan’s back before opening the door to the apartment. 

The apartment was spotless, void of anything Kelsey had taken. Her furniture was still there, set up around the luxurious living room, the couch, a pristine white with a black coffee table, the kitchen was empty though, alongside with the bathroom. But a lone bed sat in the master’s bedroom.

The entire place smelled like a candle shop and no doubt, there was a variety of them on a shelf in the living room. Since they were on the second floor, the living room had a view to the outside, he couldn’t see anything except for the buildings across and the people below, but it actually _had_ a window that didn’t face an alleyway. 

If Kelsey ever wanted to move back in… she’d have to fight him for it. 

“It’s… nice.”

“Nice?! It’s better than nice! It’s exactly what I wanted!”

“You don’t even know how much it costs…”

“Kelsey wrote it here,” Ryan raised the note, waved it and sat down on the couch, “it’s within my budget. Oh, my god. This couch...” 

“You can see that… but not a five number password?”

“And the view! Come sit here with me, look!” Ryan pointed behind him where the windows were, he shoved away the curtains and looked down onto the street.

The sun was setting, he could see the horizon through his _new_ apartment, Ryan could see the faint glow of orange and pink in the sky. The winter air of Los Angeles’ winter night fogged the window but he could see it. 

“Okay, it is beautiful,” Shane said when he sat down on the couch, he turned away from the window and leaned backwards. His eyes narrowed around the living room and Ryan looked at him, confused.

“Why are you so worried? Coming here was your idea, _taking_ the apartment was your idea.”

“I think it’s a bit too far, it’s all.” 

“Too far—what are you talking about, it’s located near Tasty and—” Ryan stopped when Shane gave him a sideways glance, it clicked in his head.

“Oh,” Ryan snapped his mouth shut and stood up. “I can see why you’re worried. But it’s not… it’s not going to stop us from seeing each other.”

Shane nodded though, it didn’t seem like he was listening to Ryan. Ryan sighed, as he was about to turn away, he saw the shelf of candles on the other side of the living room, by the doorway to the kitchen. He made sure Shane wasn’t looking when he took one, the smallest in the set and walked into the kitchen.

He took out his zippo lighter and lit the candle, there in the middle of his or what he hoped, to be his brand new kitchen. The flame illuminated the kitchen, giving some light to the white brick walls, the marbled counters and white pantries. At least he had a fridge, that was a given. 

Ryan laughed, making sure it had come out as a whisper and watched as Shane furrowed his eyebrows from his place on the couch.

“Can you hear me? I’m in the kitchen, Kelsey has a shit load of candles and I can guarantee you if I light one in every room, I bet you can hear me every day, every second of said day,” Ryan smiled when Shane snorted, turning his gaze from the wall of the living room to the kitchen doorway. “A perfect solution for a stalker like you.”

“I’m not a stalker,” Shane responded, “must I remind you who was the one to summon me?”

“I forgot,” Ryan took in a deep breath before blowing out the flame. “You have to remind me.”

Ryan turned around, where Shane had teleported at. He leaned backwards on the counter and smiled at him. There wasn’t any light in the kitchen anymore, aside from the light flooding in from the lone window but with the dim light from the night sky, Ryan could see Shane’s hooded eyes look down at him. 

He looked indifferent, neither angry, happy, or sad, he looked like he was deep in thought. In times like this, when Shane hovered over him, Ryan felt smaller than he should be, he was tall enough to tower over Kelsey or Jen but with Shane, he cowered himself into the hole he dug for himself. 

Shane locked eyes with him then and bit his lip. Like the any other time Ryan had seen him, Shane liked the silence, he liked to see first then ask questions later.

He was just that kind of guy but the tension in the air suffocated Ryan, it make him feel naked under the stare of this man. And if it wasn’t clear that he had a crush on Shane, it was clear _now_ , because Ryan, for the first time, wanted Shane to kiss him.

Shane took a step, like he heard Ryan’s thoughts but he made no move to kiss him. Rather, his arm ended up on the counter behind Ryan, he reached from the candle and looked at it. “This doesn’t smell like lavender at all.”

Wow, they were both stupid.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “of course not, it was set alight for a few seconds.” 

“If I’m guaranteed lavender, then it should happen spontaneously.” 

“Shane—”

“Aren’t you tired?” Shane placed the candle on the counter, it echoed in the empty kitchen and Ryan stepped away from it. “Let me take you home, I’m tired today, so I’ll just teleport you there.”

_No, you idiot. Kiss me! You wanted to do it I know you were!_  

“Okay,” Ryan gave in, taking the note and Kelsey’s apartment keys in hand.

“Text Kelsey that you want the apartment,” Shane opened the front door, “and tell her you’re moving in this Sunday, the goblin will help you.”

_You’re an idiot Shane Madej._

“Should I tell her that you’re a goblin?”

“As long as you tell her that we’re destined to be married.”

_Liar. I hate you_.

Shane walked him home as promised, then the next few days, Ryan prepared himself for what was the next chapter in his life. The day before he was supposed to move out, he told his aunt that he was leaving, she was delighted to see him leave and _actually_ let her sons help out with anything that he needed.

It was bittersweet but Shane had told him that they did need help to carry the dozens of roses to his new apartment.

(“And my stuff too! I have clothes and—”

“You’re talking all that junk too? When all you need are my roses? Ryan, I know you better than this.”)

Kelsey in the end was surprised that Ryan actually loved the apartment, whereas she hated it. She let him move in and her former landlord didn’t care about Ryan’s move in as long as he paid for it. They had to argue over her furniture, however, she told him that he couldn’t keep it but when Shane glared bullets into the back of her head for hours, she complied and told him to keep everything, even the candles.

(Ryan may or may not have asked Shane to use that manipulation power he had on her.) 

“If you buy me roses again, I might actually barf all over my new carpet.”

“Then how about lilies? Daffodils?” 

Ryan set the last of his box on the carpet with a groan, it wasn’t even any of his things! It was just a dozen of roses! “Next time, just shove them all up your—”

“Where do you want this box, Ryan?”

Ryan turned his gaze over from Shane—who wasn’t helping but lounging on his new couch—to his eldest cousin, holding a box that also may contain roses. “Anywhere is fine, I’ll unpack it later.”

“They’d die inside the boxes.”

“Maybe that’s how you’d die, I’ll force you into one of these boxes.” 

“Ouch,” Shane took one of the roses in an opened box and toyed with its pedals. “I should probably get life insurance.” 

“It’s a nice apartment, Ryan,” his cousin whistled, he watched as his youngest brother stepped inside with the last of the boxes. “Close the door and come say bye to Ryan.” 

Ryan’s younger cousin set the box down and frowned. “Now? So soon?”

“I don’t have any money to feed you, it’s better that you eat at home.”

“Oh,” his cousin fidgeted, “I was… I was wondering if I could talk to Shane though…”

“Me?”

“Him?”

“Why?” Ryan asked quizzically, although, he liked the idea of his youngest cousin talking to a deity that had been alive for over one thousand years. Shane wasn’t one to keep up with the youngsters, he’d be confused if his cousin talked to him. “You know what, go ahead. Knock yourself out.”

Shane sat up from the couch, he gave Ryan a look of desperation before he grinned at his cousin. “Hey buddy, if you’re about to give me the ‘if you hurt Ryan’ talk, I got it from Kelsey twice, and Steven too, I’ve been to this rodeo.”

“Well, I was planning to do that… but also, I wanted to ask if you had any quarters? I saw a bubblegum machine across the street and Ryan didn’t have any.” 

Ryan bit down a laugh, he forgot about that. He didn’t think that his cousin would remember. Ryan's cousin frowned at him when Ryan told him he didn’t have any quarters; he asked his brother too, who told him that bubblegum would rot his teeth. 

Shane actually laughed and stood up from the couch. “Come on, let me take you and your brother out to eat. Bubblegum would rot your teeth.”

“That’s what I told him!” Ryan’s older cousin blurted out from his side of the living room, he shrunk away when Shane looked at him. 

“Then it’s better to go out to eat, do you both like burgers? I know this sweet place where they have burgers _and_ games.” Shane took his coat from the floor and placed his hand on Ryan’s cousin’s shoulder. “Besides, Ryan has lots to do here, lets let him to work.”

“You’re an asshole, you better come back to _help_ me,” Ryan threw the rose that Shane had been playing with at him. “This is your mess!” 

“I’ll see you later, hun, I’m taking the kids out!”

“I’ll kill you,” Ryan replied nonchalantly, when the door locked behind Shane with his cousins animatedly asking him questions, he smiled and began to unbox his things. It wasn’t until seven in the afternoon when Shane returned, hair unkempt and fatigued, and told Ryan all about his afternoon.

Turns out, his cousin didn’t want bubblegum, but guilt-tripped Shane until he bought him lunch and he _did_ give him the ‘if you hurt Ryan’ talk that lasted at least fifteen minutes with no break. Shane loved every second of it, he took a video of half of it and showed Ryan.

Around two in the morning, Ryan passed out on his couch, the roses sprawled around his living room; he had no idea where to put them for the time being and Shane suggested that he’d put them close to his heart so he threw them all out and at him. 

He didn’t clean them up before he left, like the idiot he is.

The idiot that Ryan had a crush on. Of course, he wouldn’t say that out loud.

 

* * *

 

What is it like, missing somebody?

Shane knew what it was like, he missed people who he had once known before. But, he never knew how _harrowing_ it was when said person lived in the same city. 

Today, marked day ten since he's seen Ryan.

It’s been over a week since he helped Ryan move in into his new apartment. Shane let himself fall into his pending paperwork in peace, he knew that Ryan needed time to properly figure things out on his own. But day nine of no Ryan marital energy slash not-date, Shane began to feel irritable.

His paperwork could only do so much, a deity like him needed _excitement_ , entertainment and Ryan’s stupid new apartment was an extra twenty minutes further away from home. Poor guy was tired after a long day, all he wanted was to go home and rest and if that meant that he’d skip valuable time with Shane, by all means.

They still called and texted each other. They’d talk about their day and Shane would come up with a new story to tell him as Ryan fell asleep on the other line, most of the time, Shane had been at his office. He wasn’t bitter, he loved this routine too.

With his time alone, Shane had gotten a promotion (that Ryan congratulated him for respectfully over the phone) from his boss’ assistant to his _own_ boss _with_ an assistant. He still had to fill paperwork, more so now that he hopped the ladder but he had _less_ stress to deal with chatty clients.

His new office was closed off to the world, his door locked and he had a beautiful view of Los Angeles to the right of him. _Starry Night_ was there too, hung next to his bookshelf in front of him, it complimented his new brown chairs perfectly, it gave the office a bit of spunk to it.

Once Ryan settled in, he’d show his office to him first, despite Steven’s pleads to show him first. Ryan deserved to see _a real_ view of the city. 

Maybe today, day ten, is the day. Shane texted him that he’d pick him up after work, he’d take him to lunch _then_ to his office and then— 

And then what? _You’d take him home and tuck him in for the night. That’s all you actually do_. 

Shane tsked his tongue, his thoughts are against him. 

Shane wanted to kiss him in London, then again during Valentine’s day, when his cheeks were too flushed and _again_ at Kelsey’s old apartment where he leaned against his counter looking at Shane with those beady eyes of his.

He had his moments, sure, but kissing Ryan would be crossing the boundary between friends and lovers, and he wasn’t completely sure if Ryan wanted their relationship to remain platonic. It would be better if he talked to him soon, not now, not _right_ at this moment, because… because Shane’s scared and he doesn’t know what to _say_.

He asked Steven at home, when Shane had cleaned his house again from top to bottom with a showerhead cap on his hair instead of his bandana. Steven called him some inquisitive names before telling him that he should just be honest.

Honest? Over his already-dead body. 

He’d rather sulk in peace before he told Ryan how he felt about him. He thought a part of him didn’t want him to say anything in fear that he’d have to tell Ryan the real truth about his curse. While that was true, his heart continued to long for him and it was starting to become a bit of a challenge to keep his emotions under way.

Shane rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, he heard the faint vibration of his phone from his desk and straightened up in his chair. It was four in the afternoon now, Ryan must have clocked out. Deciding that now was the time to take his four hour break, Shane rose from his seat and took his phone in hand.

He paused when he read the text Ryan sent him.

_Don’t be mad… sorry, can we reschedule? My cousin is sick and I wanted to go check on him._  

Make that day _eleven_.

Shane rubbed the back of his neck. Well, he should have expected this.

Ryan would cancel their plans first, respectfully so. He would do it hours before or at the last minute and Shane didn’t mind that he would. Shane let him, Ryan was his own person and he didn’t control him, if he wasn’t feeling it, then that was perfectly fine too. 

Yet… Shane liked Ryan’s cousins too… maybe he’ll go with him? He’d be able to hang out with an ill buddy and see Ryan’s face again.

Shane-one, Ryan-one thousand. 

Is this pining? Is he pining—oh, my god, he’s pining for him. 

Their texts and calls isn’t enough for him? He actually, physically, had to see Ryan’s face to be happy for the rest of the day? He was pathetic and if he continued to act this way, then he didn’t blame God for cursing him. 

_What does he have left to lose?_ Shane thought, pushing down the yearning ache in his chest as he reached from his coat again. He’s a second away from sending Ryan a text to inform him that he’ll be there in a second when there’s a knock on his locked office door.

“Mr. Madej? Your boss wants to speak with you.” 

Unlocking the door, Shane let his assistant step inside. She’s a shorter woman, young, fashionably dressed and judging from the ring on her ring finger, she’s a newlywed. She stumbled inside of his office before she laughed awkwardly and smoothed down her skirt. 

“I tried to keep him away like you asked,” she confessed and frowned when Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s calling for you specifically, something about, a… um… important client.” 

Great, his boss hated him too. Shane grunted but nodded and threw his coat onto his chair. “Thank you, I’m right behind you.” His assistant nodded and turned on her heels, Shane fixed the sleeves of his collared shirt when he noticed the phone in his hand.

_We can reschedule. Be careful, I’ll call you later_.

His boss had a good reason to call him in, he did not scold him nor did he yell at him and Shane let him off the hook for keeping him cooped up in the meeting room for two hours.

After, Shane came out of said room with an armful of paperwork, his assistant stood there, she jumped when she saw him and took the paperwork from him. “Long meeting?” 

“You have no idea,” Shane drawled, he watched the paperwork bounce in her arms with every step she took. “I have to… finish all of this tonight.” 

“Yikes,” she winced, somewhere along the way, she stopped and adjusted her grip on the folders. Shane decided to give her a break and walked slower to his office. “I could help you if you’d like? My wife always said to stay in overnight if need be.”

Shane chuckled, he pressed himself next to the wall to avoid the passerby’s of interns and his employees walk in the same hallway. “You’re a newlywed, go home at six and have fun with your wife.”

“How’d you know that?” His assistant whirled around and raised her eyebrow, her short hair fell onto her eyes and had no leverage to move it away from her face. “Am I too obvious?” 

“Yes,” Shane pointed to her ring finger effortlessly, “you don’t have the famous ring tan I’ve been hearing about.” He chuckled when she pouted, “don’t worry, it’d get there.”

“You speak of this from experience? Is that why you looked so sad after your boss called you in? Did you have to cancel your plans with him?”

“Now, how could you possibly know their gender?” Shane stopped in front of his office, he took the paperwork from her hands and she let out a deep breath.

“I’ve never met a rich, straight man that would have sprinted out of his office in the middle of the day to see their loved one,” she said, “you looked rather pale, it’s not an emergency right?” 

It was, it _definitely_ was.

Though they were in the same city, breathing the same air but the longer Shane stayed away from Ryan, his chest would constantly throb and ask for him personally. Not only was it terrifying to think that a human made him this way—a human left him putty in their hands and he wasn’t up for the pain that followed.

“No, he’s fine. I just miss him,” Shane answered truthfully, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish this so I can call him. Leave at six, be with your wife.” 

When he turned towards his office, his assistant nodded and offered him luck, but luck wasn’t on his side, he knew that even with his magical abilities or whatever, he would sit in that chair until one in the morning.

He was right, the paperwork stacked on top of the folders he’d already _was_ working on before the meeting. 

He had little to no energy as to finishing it and when the clock strikes six thirty, his assistant knocked on the door again. He was sure that he’d have to pull the blade out of his own chest, but relief consumed him when she told him that she was leaving for the day. 

“Hey, I bet that he misses you too. Take that and use it as motivation to see him tonight. Just make sure you wake up in the morning! Goodnight boss!” 

He didn’t see Ryan that night, but their call lasted around two hours, a new record. 

In the hours that followed, Shane ended up falling asleep on his couch at home. To wake up before five in the morning in his dress attire with Ryan on the other line snoring his head off was bizarre. He was exhausted, his limbs sore and he had to stretch them out before ending said call and getting ready for another long day at work.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, strands fell on his eyes as he decided on his outfit. It didn’t take long, it would be spring soon, in a few days in fact. Though Los Angeles’ had already begun to _act_ like it was summertime, especially as he hadn’t sulked in his bedroom in weeks, Shane didn’t even need his blazer anymore.

Shane settled for a gray button down shirt, alongside with a pair of black jeans. While it wasn’t dress code, his company could stick it where it belonged, he was _working_ until one in the morning last night and he had planned to leave around lunchtime to hang out with Ryan anyway.

He knew that his boss would hate that but again, he could also _stick_ it.

Shane will be damned if today marked day _twelve_ on his ‘days since I’ve seen Ryan’ list. He burned that list after he took Ryan to that damned restaurant and ate as he complained about work with him.

He ran his fingers over his wrist to find it bare; he was halfway down his stairs when he realized that he’d forgotten Ryan’s watch. He whirled around on the staircase when he heard a loud sneeze and paused.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he caught the sight of a sniffly Steven, shoulders slouched and head lolled as he walked downstairs. He sniffed as he stuck out his arm at Shane, he had an unhealthy pale color to him, the bags under his eyes were darker, almost to the point where Shane could see his veins pop out.

Surprised by his appearance, Shane took hold of the railing and took a step back. “What’s wrong with you?” 

Another sniffle, “I woke up,” he moaned. He shook his arm towards Shane’s direction and he averted his eyes to his nephew's hand. Steven was holding Ryan’s watch. “You left this in the bathroom.” 

“Uh…” Shane took the watch from Steven’s cold hand and wrapped it around his wrist, “thanks? Hey, are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Steven bawled, voice raspier than what it _would_ sound when he wakes up early. He squinted his eyes before he turned around.

“Hey, hey,” with his long legs, he took two steps up the stairs and reached for Steven. “Are you sick? What’s wrong with you?”

Steven trembled in his hold and he bowed his head, Shane placed his hand on Steven’s flushed cheek. He did not raise his head though, he lamely leaned towards Shane’s hands before he stumbled.

“Alright,” Shane grunted and bent his knees, he took hold of Steven’s arm and thighs before picking him up and over his shoulder. “You’re going straight to bed and I’m going to get Ryan—”

“Do _not_!” Steven kicked his leg, aiming to injure Shane but had missed by a tiny margin. He struggled again until Shane opened the door to his bedroom, “put me _down_! I’m not a child anymore! You had an advantage then! This isn’t fair!” 

“For somebody who has a fever,” Shane tossed Steven on his bed, letting him bounce with a groan. “You are strong. And I know you’re not a child anymore, you’re heavier.” Shane rolled his shoulder with his hand and smiled when Steven glared at him.

“Fuck you… don’t get Ryan."

“You need somebody to take care of you. And since you don’t want me to stay, Ryan would love to make you soup! Lots of soup.” 

“That’s just an excuse to invite him here,” Steven raised his arm over his eyes, “he’s at school, leave the poor guy alone.” 

Shane gasped, and walked out of the room. Not a minute later, he returned with fever medicine and a bowl of cereal. “Accusing me… of such a thing… that hurts, bud!”

“Shut up…”

“I’m only a simpleton, a deity in love with a human who I haven’t seen in days—open your mouth, it’s _Lucky_ _Charms_ , you love that cereal—”

“Yeah, when I was a kid!” 

“—and my adoptive nephew has a fever and who am I to leave him alone during this crucial time of need?” Steven glowered at him and pushed the cereal bowl to his chest, he began to take spoonfuls of plain cereal and sugary marshmallows.

“Where did you even get this? We didn’t have Lucky Charms.” 

“Didn’t you hear me?” Shane narrowed his eyes at the pill bottle, reading the directions on the white sticker. He never gotten sick before, not with a fever but Steven has, many, _many_ times. And whenever he had, Shane would have to read the words on said bottle just in case he accidentally bought  _mucus relief_ instead of pain reliever. 

(It’d happen before, Steven threw the bottle at his head, and Shane brought him five thousand and thirty pill bottles and dumped him into them.)

“I’m a deity. I went to a store and took it.”

“Without _paying_?”

Shane grinned at him, “eat your cereal. Then take two of these with water,” he placed the pill bottle on the bedside table. “Then you’re going to sleep and when you wake up, Ryan will be here taking care of you until I get home.”

“I’m convinced that that’s not going to happen in the way you say it will… pay for the cereal, you imbecile.”

“I paid for it! Even if I didn’t, five dollars wouldn’t kill them.”

“You’re the worst deity ever. Aren’t you guys supposed to be like… gods, helping civilization.”

“That’s not what it is at all.”

“But instead! You’re out here stealing Lucky Charms from the working class!”

“Eh… maybe on a good day, I’ll pay the remainder cost when I see Ryan,” Shane said back, he sat on the edge of Steven’s bed. He felt his headache, it throbbed as he continued to angrily eat his cereal. Through mouthfuls, Steven scolded him about _not paying the entire cereal box_ but Shane saw more to that.

When Steven was younger he’d get a fever quite often, just like he had told Ryan before. Shane didn’t mind, Steven minded less, he loved the idea of staying home from school and watching cartoons with Lucky Charms all day. But as he aged, Shane realized that it wasn’t normal. 

He hadn’t gotten the science behind it, only the spiritual aspect. No man could get this sick after he had been sick a few days ago, no, a ghost—a deity was doing this.

Shane had done it to people, possessed them until they succumbed to their sickness. They never would die, they’d only recover slowly and painfully, it was a ritual that he learned to survive and he _hated_ doing it. 

However. Whoever was making Steven sick was enjoying it. 

They were sending Shane a message. 

He gritted his teeth, watching as Steven swallowed the two pills with his water before shuddering and slid into his blankets. “If you’re so great, mr. deity, why am I sick again?” 

_They’re trying to kill you._  

“I don’t know, I’ll figure it out. I’ll send Ryan here after class, I’ll be right behind him.” He stood and watched as Steven’s heavy eyes blinked, he had no energy to argue and instead nodded his lithe head.

In his head, Shane saw the boy he took care of, swallowed in his cartoonish bedsheets and begged Shane to heal him from his fever with pleading wide eyes. He’ll be damned if he let another deity hurt him. New plan: fuck work, get Ryan, find the deity and—

“Will you tell him that you love him?”

Shane shook his head, then looked at Steven who had asked him a question. “What?”

“Shane, you have to tell him you love him.” 

“You’re sick, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“No,” Steven pressed, “I know what I’m saying, you have to tell him. The watch wasn’t the only thing you left in the bathroom. I don’t know if you remember but last night before you fell asleep on the couch, you asked me to bring you something.”

Shane knitted his eyebrows, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“You asked me to bring you your journal, specifically told me to open the recent bookmark. I didn’t… I didn’t read all of it but I glimpsed at it.”

“Have you been lurking in my room again?”

“No, I told you, you _asked_ for the journal. It was… it was there, by your bedside table. And I’ve seen you flip through it before when you’d work, if that’s what you were reading, Shane, you have it bad.”

“I—”

“And not even the good bad, the _bad_ bad. It’s like the kind of bad you don’t want to be associated with.”

Shane narrowed his eyes at Steven, he kept his eyes shut as he rambled on, talking about how Shane should do this and _that_. It was the fever talking, the poor guy had it worse; his cheeks flushed to an unusual pink color and he had begun to sweat again. He didn’t know what he was saying.

He didn't know what he was talking about. 

Shane shrugged, then turned around to walk out of Steven’s stuffy bedroom. He left the door open and walked downstairs quietly. As he grabbed his shoes by the coat stool, his eyes caught the sight of the couch in his living room. He woke up with a white fleece blanket on top of him, alongside with his phone on his chest.

It wasn’t unusual, he had been waking up like that for days now but today there was something new. His journal was there, it had fallen to the ground opened on the bookmark that he’d written back in December. It was the same and he let out a breath of relief as he didn’t ruin or add anything else to embarrass himself.

Shane closed the journal and set it on the coffee table, now, he’d pray that he didn’t read it to Ryan last night.

It neared lunchtime when Shane decided to head over to Ryan’s school. He spent his morning scanning around his house, his neighborhood and anywhere within a hundred mile radius. Though, he did not find any means of the supernatural, it did not change the fact that someone was here.

Ryan was out of the question, alongside his ghost buddies that followed him around. The three musketeers wouldn’t drastically hurt Steven—Ryan didn’t even have any deity enemies. 

Yet, Shane did.

Thinking of his endless list of enemies from the other side, Shane mentally took note of some of them who _would_ hurt Steven to spite him. Though, most of them wouldn’t be in Los Angeles or in fact, had been dead for centuries now because Shane had a temper.

He thought of Andrew but Andrew was a reaper, and if he were to hurt somebody Shane loved, it would have been Ryan. Plus, all he needed to do was to touch Steven and he would literally drop dead. He crossed him off anyway, Andrew wasn’t the type of reaper to stray beyond the rules of the dead, he loved to kiss the man upstairs’ ass.

Once Shane thought of the deity of vengeance and deadly pirate ghosts, he’d arrived at UCLA. Ryan had told him his new schedule when he first began, just in case he wanted to visit him or pick him up for lunch. During this time, Ryan would walk out by the west gate and to the library across the street.

Before he moved out, Shane would wait for him there where they hung out before Ryan’s last class in the afternoon. It had been fascinating to wait for someone, he didn’t think of kissing Ryan that much during the beginning of his semester but as time passed, he wanted to greet him with one every time.

_Would you have the courage to do it now?_

Eh, he doesn’t see why not. It wouldn’t be a _real_ kiss, just… on the cheek! Or around his temple or something. Ryan would probably be humiliated and threaten him but it would be okay because he wanted to kiss him many other times.

Except, he didn’t know when it _was_ the right time to confess or kiss him. Ryan loved to block his thoughts, especially with Shane around him and Shane despised reading his thoughts without his permission or Ryan  _wanting_ him to.

Communication is important…

But Shane loved to be mysterious. And he had no idea what the hell he was doing. 

He passed by a few students, letting them stroll past the campus gate with friends and colleagues. He did not see Ryan among the crowd but spotted him a few feet behind, reaching for something in his backpack. He was wearing a black short-sleeve shirt and jeans that curved captivatingly with his legs. He had his face covered by the ghost that stood next to him, her hands deep in her jean pockets as she spoke to him, Ryan ignored her.

Shane began to walk over when the girl turned her gaze to him, she tensed and jumped away from the scene. She barely gave herself time to dissipate through the wall of the building when somebody’s shoulder bumped into Shane’s body. 

“Sorry,” they apologized, though they had already caused Shane to stand still. He did not catch sight of who it was but when he directed his eyes back on Ryan, he was no longer alone.

A man spoke to him, smiling as he helped Ryan with whatever he was looking for. Shane isn’t sure if he’s seen this guy before, but he was tall and handsome. He humored Ryan for a little bit until Shane began to walk over to the both of them.

“—fun, do you think we could do it again?” Shane heard as he walked closer, the man wringed his hands as Ryan adjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

_Huh?_ Do _what_ again?

“Oh! About that…” Shane listened as Ryan trailed off and rubbed his neck nervously. Shane hadn’t realized how close he was until he loomed over Ryan and his shadow kept him hidden from the sun, the other man saw him first and frowned.

When Ryan turned around, his eyes widened and his hand fell to his side. “Shane?”

Shane looked down at Ryan, he was handsome up close than afar. And since he’s seen him with bundles of clothing a few days back, he hadn’t changed.

He looked healthier, his tanned skin glowed and his hair gelled over to his left. His sharp jaw showcased a stubble, short enough but it fit the shape of his face. He left his glasses at home again even if he didn’t need them anymore, his contacts lit up his eyes, a lot brighter than the sun.

Oh no.

“Shane? What are you doing here?”

Knowing that he’d come off as awkward, Shane smiled. “I missed you.”

Shit.

Shane, realizing his mistake straightened himself up and gaped at Ryan. “Wait—uh, I mean I’m here because... Steven is—”

“You missed me?”

“No… no, I—” Shane waved his hands in front of him and watched as Ryan raised his arched eyebrow at him. Is he playing with him? Is he messing with him? “I—”

“Sorry, um… should I come back another time?” Both Shane and Ryan looked over to the other man with them, he stood there as tilted his head at Ryan’s direction. “Should I just call you later?”

Ah… so _this_ is Brent.

Ryan told him about Brent, he went on a date with him, yet, didn’t like the way it had turned out. He said that Brent was a nice guy and he was a better friend. Shane had no reason to worry, this guy let Ryan borrow his jacket during the colder days last year and respected him.

Ryan swayed on his feet and opened his mouth to reply. When no words came out, Shane stepped in the fray. “I don’t mean to interrupt, I wanted to talk to Ryan for a second.”

“You did?” Ryan turned to him, then back to Brent. 

“Then should I wait…?”

“Yes—”

“Uh, I think it’s best I go with Shane,” Ryan cut him off, and held his hands up to Brent and chuckled warily. “It might be something with work and Steven and… I think I should go with him.”

Well, that was sudden. Shane pushed down his anxiety and let Ryan talk to Brent. Did he want to spend time with him instead? Oh, my god. What if they hung out today?

It wasn’t like they never hung out, come on now. Why was today any different? 

_But Ryan wants to hang out with me!_

Shane bit his lip, keeping his smile intact as Ryan waved his goodbyes at Brent and pulled _him_ away by the arm. Once they were out of Brent’s earshot, Ryan let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank _god_ , you’re here. You really helped me back there buddy.” 

“Well, I—” 

“And frankly, you and I haven’t had a chance to hang out.”

“I’m happy to help, but—”

“I just—” Ryan continued at his vigorous pace, his hand gripped onto Shane’s bicep for dear life that Shane feared that it would turn blue from restricted blood flow. “I didn’t know how to tell him that I didn’t want to go on another date with him."

Oh.

“It’s no big deal,” Shane gave him a half shrug, “it’s best to be honest with him instead of leading him on, though.”

“I’m not—” Ryan let go of Shane and looked at him strangely, “I’m not leading him on… I don’t want to hurt his feelings, he’s a nice guy. Plus, _that_ coming from _you_?”

“What does that mean?” Shane averted his eyes from the street, they walked outside the school now. Both of them stood away from the gate and near the crosswalk to the library. Yep. Shane knew that he _would_ go there.

“Nevermind, what are you doing here? Are we going out or something? Do you want to grab lunch? Breakfast? _Brunch_?”

Whoa, alright. “Alright calm down there, man,” Shane waved his hand, as if Ryan understood him, he exhaled and nodded. Shane kept his gaze steady, however, keeping his eyes on Ryan and watched as he fidgeted. What was up with him?

He didn’t seem weird at all when he saw him minutes ago nor last night over the phone, this was recent, this was _now_. Shane’s forehead creased and he clasped his hands behind his back.

This was Ryan he was dealing with. He loved to keep things to himself, more so from Shane than anybody else. He’ll crack under pressure and overwork himself to near death if he needed to. In the short amount of time Shane knew him, Ryan would lie to him. 

“How’s your cousin?” Shane asked, he took Ryan’s arm when the crosswalk light blinked and kept him still.

“My cousin?”

“You said that he was sick.”

Ryan blinked for a second until he jumped in recollection, he nodded his head but Shane frowned at him.

“You lied.”

Ryan continued nodding his head but this time with a frown, “I can explain.”

“Ryan,” Shane inclined his head, “you didn’t have to lie to me, you can tell me anything.”

“I didn’t lie for me,” Ryan admitted profusely, he drew in a long breath before reflecting his gaze over to the street. “I lied for you. You were at work and you would have gotten in trouble if you got out, in fact,” he pointed a finger at Shane, “you’re not at work now, because of me! It’s always because of me!”

“Where…” Shane held out his hand, “where is all of this coming from? Did something happen?”

“No!” Ryan snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. “Nothing happened, just! What the hell Shane!”

“What the hell what!? I don’t know what you want if you don’t speak to me, man.”

“Oh, that’s funny coming from you! Again!” 

“What does—”

Ryan rubbed his face with his hands and let out whine, one similar to the time Shane saw him bawl his eyes out. Without thinking, Shane took hold of Ryan’s hands and tore them away from his face but Ryan had an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m not here to have lunch with you,” Shane brought out the big guns, while it had been a lie, Ryan wasn’t in the right mind for them to have a friend-date. “I’m here because Steven has a fever again and I wanted to ask if you had any strange occurrence with a deity or a _ghost_.”

“A fever?”

“Yeah, a fever,” Shane murmured and let go of his friend’s wrists, “a strong one. Any suggestions? I told you about that pirate lady last night, did you see her?”

“No… I haven’t… unless it’s Jen but I haven’t seen anybody.” Shane clicked his tongue. A dead end. 

“Is Steven okay? Do you need me to go and see him? That is what you told him… that you’d come and get me?"

“Right,” Shane nodded.

“So, you are going to work?”

Though, it was just an intersection by UCLA and the public library, Shane found himself at a crossroad. He dug himself into a hole, a deep one that even he, a six foot man couldn’t climb out of. He watched as Ryan told himself that Shane wasn’t necessarily there _for_ him but for Steven, his adoptive family member.

He took note when Ryan grimly smiled and averted his eyes away from the crosswalk. “I’ll go take care of him, you should go to work or you’ll get in trouble.” 

“Ryan—” 

“You and I need to talk though, I don’t know when… um, but we do need to talk soon.”

_I agree, but you don’t need to leave._ Shane kept his mouth shut and Ryan slipped through his fingers like the sand in Miami, where they both drank piña coladas and ate Cuban food.

“What about?” The hole from earlier now reached bedrock and it seemed like Shane had to yell from Earth’s core. Ryan narrowed his eyes at him.

“Everything.”

There they stood, a few feet away from each other. Ryan holding the strap of his backpack, one that Shane bought for him during Christmas and Shane himself,  watching him as he fiddled with the watch Ryan bought him. It took him back to many things, one of most back to London where Shane had the desire to take Ryan’s into his arms and kiss him feverishly.

The same raw emotion that bubbled up in the pit of his stomach rose up again. It intensified as Ryan turned around away from the direction of his house, a faint breeze hit him across the face and a strand of his gelled hair fell to his forehead. He looked like the man Shane had feelings for, he could not be compared to anybody he knew in his long life, it was only Ryan. 

He wasn’t his husband nor his betrothed, it was just _Ryan_. And Ryan didn’t deserve this. 

_I’m sorry. I can’t be straightforward with you because I’m afraid to hurt you. But I do love you. I do. I want to do this, to go on dates and kiss you and hug you. I want to take it slow because I want to learn how to love you. That’s what you deserve, you don’t deserve to kill me._  

_I’m sorry Ryan._  

“You’re right,” Shane agreed, he relaxed his tense shoulders and stepped closer to Ryan. “We will talk. And I will tell you what’s going on in this noggin.” He hit the side of his temple with his knuckle and the corner’s of Ryan’s mouth twitched. 

“It’d take hours, considering your big head but I’m sure you’d be able to.”

Shane didn’t frown at his comment, instead, he laughed and reached for the loose strand in Ryan’s forehead. “We’ll talk about your head too.” 

When Ryan opened his mouth to reply, Shane leaned forward and pressed his lips on the smooth skin of Ryan’s forehead. He planted his kiss there, above his eyebrow and where the strand was before, he didn’t give Ryan time to hit him or come up with a joke when he pulled away, it was the first of many, Shane promised himself.

And he’ll give so many to him, until the day he dies. 

_I’m sorry_.

“I’m going to work now. I’ll see you later?” Shane straightened and stepped away from Ryan, who nodded his head and turned away from him without another word.

Shane clenched his sweaty palms and looked at the sky, the sun peered down at him and shone at Ryan as he walked further away. His heart beat tenaciously, leaving him in a state of confusion and embarrassment but left him content no less. A kiss on the forehead left him breathless and wanting more.

If this is how he felt after kissing Ryan, after _hugging_ him, after loving him, then the thought of confessing to him kept him on the soles of his feet. Even if it meant dying by Ryan’s hands, he’d do anything to feel what he just felt.

Love. He felt love.

 

* * *

 

As a kid, Ryan had loved weekends, hell, he looked forward to them. Although he wasn’t the wealthiest in the block, his mother could afford a television and at some point, it had cable so he’d watch his cartoons on a Saturday. They were in Spanish and the pictures were grainy but he loved it. 

Now, as an adult, weekends caused him misery, he couldn’t do lots of things during the weekend. If he missed something at school, he’d have to wait until Monday to retrieve it, if he needed an extra shift at work, he’d have to work the Saturday or Sunday shifts, (which he did _not_ want to do.)

Everything that would happen during the weekend had to wait until Monday. And if Ryan had to wait until Monday to talk to Kelsey about the kiss Shane gave him, he was going to lose his mind. 

It was his luck too that he was _off_ on said Monday.

He kept his emotions bottled up inside of him during the weekend, he did not let himself succumb to what he believed to be a humiliating act of screaming his lungs out until Shane himself heard him from across the city. _What the hell was he thinking, kissing him on a Friday?_

Steven was no help, Ryan did not tell him anything about Shane’s stupid kiss. He had no time to as the feeble man pushed him out of the door and ordered him to go to work for him. Shane wasn’t happy about that and called Ryan up on the phone to tell him that he was punishing Steven to wash the dishes.

(In which _Ryan_ yelled at him to leave the sick man alone.)

So Ryan’s patience was running low and he needed to face Kelsey at some point. He dressed himself, ate a reasonable amount during breakfast and practically sped through all of his lectures. Jen didn’t appear next to him until his second class, she whistled in awe as she watched Ryan work through his homework furiously.

He may have let out a few swear words here and there aimed at Shane but that was between Jen and himself or Daysha and Maycie who at some point joined the pony show. At one in the afternoon, Ryan walked to Tasty with them, they floated behind him as he practically sprinted into the restaurant.

Once inside, the bell rang as if it would signal his entrance. “Kelsey!” 

“I know _damn_ well you’re not here to work, Bergara!” She shouted back and pivoted back and forth with trays of food in her hands. Her pony tail swung from side to side as she moved, the second she smiled at her customers she turned to glare at Ryan when he did not make room to leave the restaurant.

“I’m not! I’m not, I have to talk to you or I’ll physically die.” 

“That’s Ryan code for _I want an extra shift_.” Kelsey placed her tray on the bar counter, she motioned for her co-worker to take her orders. “It’s not happening, so you could leave, we’re kind of busy.” 

It was a Monday, the last of the customers she had served were two men and the _other_ customers she had orders for was a woman sat on the bar stool alone, eating her french fries.

“She said busy,” Daysha scoffed behind Ryan, “just tell her what you wanna say! We all wanna hear!”

Ryan shuddered and subtly turned his gaze behind him, Jen, Maycie and Daysha followed him inside of the restaurant. They had been sitting on an empty booth, Jen had her hands behind her head and her legs crossed on the table. These three…

“It’s about Shane,” Ryan shared to the class, he didn’t see the ghost’s reactions behind him but he did see Kelsey brighten up, clear as day. She straightened herself and tossed her dirty rag over her shoulder.

“I’m all ears, what did hunky man Shane do?” 

“Don’t call him that,” Ryan wrinkled his nose and sat on one of the stools. “On Friday, I… I was at school right. Then before my last class, Shane showed up.” 

“It’s true,” He heard Jen recall behind him, “Shane saw me and I sprinted out of there. Girls, it was the scariest thing I’ve—”

“And I was with Brent, though Shane came over and I saw an opportunity to leave and I took it. I was actually kind of, sort of, happy that he was there to see me because I was hungry but I was still dealing with some of my _own_ feelings and—”

“You’re giving yourself little time to breathe,” Kelsey interrupted and Ryan went limp onto the bar counter. “All I’m getting out of this is that Shane was going to ask you out—”

“He didn’t! He said that he was there because… Steven was sick and that he needed to ask me about that. So I volunteered to take care of him. I told him—I told him that we needed to talk!” 

“And…”

“And he said okay!” Ryan cried, moving his arms to the counter and covering his face under them. “I’m screwed.” 

“What’s that?” Kelsey spoke above him, she let out a laugh and Ryan heard the sink turn on. “A talk could lead to many things… a date… sex—”

“He kissed me,” Ryan mumbled from the counter, his words muffled but he turned his head to look at Kelsey. “He kissed my forehead.”

Kelsey froze and slowly turned her head to Ryan. Her red-stained lips opened in surprise before she let out the loudest screech—he didn't know _that_  was possible. “He did _what_! No way. He did _not_!”

Ryan nodded, at this point he knew that one of his ghost friends were looming over him, he trembled as their cool aura surrounded him. “He did.” He lifted his finger and pointed at a random area on his forehead. “Right here. What does this mean? What does it mean?”

“It means that he likes you!” 

“He likes you!” 

Kelsey clapped her hands, “he loves you!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ryan rolled his eyes and his shoulders sagged. “I was the one to tell him that we needed to talk… but I don’t know if I could face him because—”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Kelsey exaggeratingly placed her hands on her hips, “you both like each other! If you both like each other! There must be room to confess to each other! Preferably somewhere private.”

“I agree with the waitress girl,” Jen raised her arm behind Ryan, her transparent shadow moved as she did. Ryan sighed and shook his head, he was about to let himself fall to the counter when he realized the reason why he couldn’t. 

“I can’t…” 

“Why?” She rebutted, “you clearly like him—”

“Because I _liked_ the kiss, I liked it when he kissed me so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself and I want him to kiss me again or I’ll kiss him and I can’t because—” 

“Because…?”

“Because it’s _Shane_!”

“Exactly, it’s Shane,” Kelsey shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just Shane. It’s Shane, who you would describe to me all the damn time and with your little dates here and there, it’s no different. You’d have me fooled if you told me you weren’t dating him.”

“If you confess, you will feel much better,” She continued and took hold of his arm, she caressed his arm with her fingers, and winced when her nails scraped his skin. “Then you could kiss him again.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do—” 

“I can guarantee you that he wouldn’t either,” she let out a breathy laugh, then she leaned forward on the counter, resting her elbows on the cool surface. With a soft smile, Kelsey added: “The thing about loving somebody, Ryan, you’re in it together. One kiss at a time.” 

_Suddenly, the man turned to him, making eye contact as if he had heard Ryan's thoughts. There’s no visible emotion in his eyes but Ryan felt his heart stop. Everything around him felt as almost a blur as he caught this man’s eyes—_

In his head, he saw him. A younger version of him, his form thinner and lithe, with no sign of muscle from lack of nutrients in his body. His face was sunken, chestnut eyes downcasted as he narrowed them. They glared straight into Ryan’s soul, though made no effort in acknowledging him.

Ryan stared back, afraid if he were to break eye contact that the man would react. Expect it wasn’t just a man, it was Shane. Obviously so, his hair was near his shoulders, tied behind the curve of his neck, filthy and covered in grime. He smiled, teeth a gruesome yellowish tint as his lips parted with every passing second.

Though he had Shane’s facial features, this was not him. It was not him. It was not him.

Then who is this? 

In a quick second, one that left Ryan breathless, Shane begun to unravel. Transforming into his present self, his face fuller, flushed cheeks and eyes that squinted at Ryan whenever he laughed. He straightened himself, keeping his back upright as he walked, exaggerating the swagger in his steps as he swung his shoulders from side to side. Ryan told him he looked like an idiot, he remembered, it was in London, Shane was trying to make him laugh by walking like this. 

This was Shane, drunkenly keeping him close in the secluded streets of London by grabbing onto him. Shane who discouraged the idea that a ghost was flirting with Ryan because obviously, they weren’t technically real. Shane, who told him about his time in Russia and how he was excommunicated because he accidentally ruined Ivan ‘the terrible’s’ reputation.

That was him, not the materizled younger version of him who had been seconds away from slaughtering Ryan with his gaze. And he was infatuated with him, that part of him that kept him begging for more, wanting to keep cracking jokes with him and to love him if it were possible.

Nothing changed, Shane was still Shane. And fuck it, if Ryan wanted to kiss him then he’d kiss him. 

Ryan rose from the stool and patted the back of his pants where his phone was. It would take one text, something that he knew he’d overthink his way out of it but once he sent the _meet me at the park in ten?_ He knew he was done for.

He hadn’t realized that he spaced out minutes before, yet, when he had come to, Kelsey was out his view and tending to customers. Jen, Maycie and Daysha left him to himself too and sat back in their empty booth together.

Something in Ryan appreciated their patience with him, he knew that he was dragging on his crush over his friends but... the way to a relationship is time and effort together. One kiss at a time.

“Going somewhere?” Kelsey questioned, she kept writing in her notepad through her eyes followed Ryan’s every move. He felt the presence of his other three transparent friends stare him down, but he only smiled in Kelsey’s direction.

“One kiss at a time right?” Ryan repeated, he held onto the side of the restaurant door, his knuckles grew pale. “I think it’s time for the first one.”

Kelsey paused, she kept still and then grinned widely at him. Her eyes watered slightly and she seemed to have the desire to throw her hands up in the air. “Finally!”

She danced in place, squealing over her customers and higher than the dramatics of the ghosts from the booth. Though the customers only heard Kelsey’s cheers, Ryan heard more than he needed to and walked out of Tasty on a mission.

Halfway into running to the park, his phone vibrated in his hand. _I’m already on my way_.

Ryan had to push down the anxiety he felt, his hands grew clammy from humidity. Today marked the first day of spring, where trees would grow back their leaves and flowers would bloom. And Ryan kept running, past bystanders, students with backpacks and workers with suitcases alike.

His legs moved for him, one step at a time as the beating of his heart kept it’s steady beat. As nervous as he was, he wanted to see Shane, to see him smile at him one more time and tell him a joke. Take him to another city and show him what he’s never seen before, on top of that, telling him stories that nobody knew.

Nobody but them.

The park came into view about five minutes into his running. His sneakers stepped on the solid asphalt, it was all the same, only seasons changed its course but the park kept it’s beauty even when his mother was alive. Thought it had been a few hours since spring officially began, flowers had already filled in the gaps leftover from winter, blossoming into distinct colors of pink, light blue and green.

He stopped for a moment, bending down and resting his hands on his knees. His chest fell with rapid breaths as he took in his surroundings and from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure run towards his direction.

Knowing exactly who it might be, Ryan’s heart flipped in his chest and he jolted upright.

Shane ran, it had been the first time Ryan’s seen him run. His collared shirt was untucked and over his black pants, his hair had been a mess, even though he was quite far away from Ryan, he knew that he had leaves stuck in his hair.

Yet, he looked as handsome as the day he met him. 

And without a single beat, Ryan ran towards him, stepping over the cobblestone and into his arms. Shane caught him, holding his bicep with his hand and panted into the side of his face. He was sweaty, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, Ryan was about to comment about it when Shane moved his hand to his nape and pressed his forehead on Ryan’s.

With a soft whimper, Shane pressed his lips against his, his bottom lip quivered and lingered over Ryan’s chin, though he shut his eyes instinctively.

Shane’s other hand moved from his forearm to his cheek, his thumb stroked Ryan’s reddened cheek when he pulled away to kiss him properly. Their height difference didn’t help, Ryan tilted his head upwards to reach Shane’s lips and Shane had him on his tiptoes. At least Shane noticed, because when he pulled away once more, he bent his knees to capture his lips. 

His lips were gentle, albeit chapped and tasted of marshmallows. And Ryan could only lean in for more because his heart begged for it, he wrapped his own arms around Shane’s hips and smiled. One kiss at a time.

 

* * *

 

Since he’s been resurrected, Shane learned that his dreams were rare, most of the time zero to non existent.

When he first woken up, he staggered around through the plowed field until he found a nearby town to stay in. Sleep never came, rest did. He had been delirious at the time, his mind consumed him with blood curdling screams and horrified decapitated heads. 

Shane could never let himself dream since. In the rare occasion that he had, they weren’t visible for him to comprehend and would shortly end after a few minutes.

When he woke up, he never remembered them. It would trouble him if he had, on top of the everlasting ache in his chest and the need to lift his curse, remembering the faces of the people he’d hurt would drive him to absolute insanity.

Insomnia threaded into his life at one point, it lingered with him for a long, long time. He’d try every remedy in the book to cure himself because god, he needed to sleep. Though, it helped just in case he’d dream of somebody he killed or left behind to die alone.

It plagued him, like last night where he dreamed of Ryan dying in his arms. Somebody that he had grown to love, somebody who was destined to be with him forever, _dying_ in his presence. And himself, a deity who controlled natural elements, froze time for a day—couldn’t save him.

A picture spoke louder than words and Ryan did not utter a sound to him in his dream. His eyes said it all, he’s disappointed in him, he _hated_ him. Loathed him for letting him die in his hands. His melancholy grabbed Shane by the neck and shook him until he woke up in a cold sweat. 

Shane took in a sharp breath and sat up on his damp bed. He shrunk into himself, his knees cowered to his chest as he took in as much oxygen as his lungs needed. He was scared, he trembled in his darkened room as he tried to remember what he had dreamed of. When he realized that he _did_ remember, he let out a cry. 

In fear that he’d wake Steven up, he covered his mouth with his hand. Why would he dream that? He wouldn’t do that to Ryan, he would save him, he would give up his own life for him. He wouldn’t let him to die. 

Suddenly, he shut his eyes tightly, the blade throbbed in his chest, spreading a pain unimaginable through his body. He opened his mouth in distress, but let out no sound, he squirmed in his bed as the ache grew and clenched his shirt with moist fingers.

Fuck, did it hurt. His chest moved along with the transparent sword impaled inside of him, taking in some gasps of air before letting out a groan. This happened often now, more than he would admit and it caused him such torment that he was tempted to run off to another country. 

But he refused to let it rain.

Besides, the glow of the sun shone on Ryan like nothing he’d ever seen before, his tan skin radiated with it’s rays and when he smiled, the sun itself would hide into the clouds.

He saw Ryan in his head, the way he’d seen him two days before. He was handsome, he ate more (although Shane forced him to) and had muscle in those arms of his. His face was fuller, his arms firmer and he begun to complain that most of his pants didn’t fit him anymore. 

Shane smiled at the ceiling, the blue hue from his blade diminished as he thought about him. Soon he'll be able to breathe normally, and the ache from his chest would reduce instantly. He thought about Ryan in Seattle, how Shane had him in three coats, on top of his beanie and a scarf; how he’d fall when they tried to ice skate or when he’d whine at the feel of the icy rain between his fingers.

Around ten in the morning, Shane laughed. He rose from his stained bed and into his bathroom, where he cross paths with Steven. He’d pass by him without a word and get ready for work. Once he dressed himself in a white collared shirt and black jeans, Shane walked down the stairs where Steven had been.

Wordlessly, Steven thrusted a bowl into Shane’s arms, causing him to gasp. The bowl felt cold in his fingers and he looked down. It was a bowl of Lucky Charm cereal, the marshmallows melted by now, pastel colors swirled with the milk and the tasteless cereal itself softened.

“What’s this?” He asked, voice raspy and hoarse. His throat hurt too, during the night he let out a few muffled screams into his pillow. “Lucky Charms?”

“Lucky Charms, it’s for you,” Steven replied, knitting his eyebrows and scratched his nose. “When I feel bad, I love to eat cereal, remember. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“Oh, Steven…” Shane softened his eyes, smiling at him. “I’m on a strict no-dairy diet.” 

“What the hell… it’s not like you’re going to get sick. Eat the damn cereal.”

“I’ll be bloated for the rest of the day…”

“This is the last time I do something for you.”

Shane bit down his laugh, his nephew was so nice to him.

“Speaking of,” Shane began, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. The spoon clanked with the glass bowl as he sat down on his couch, “do you feel better? You said you didn’t have a fever anymore.”  
  
“My nose feels a bit stuffy, it must be allergies. It is the first day of spring.” 

“Huh,” Shane nodded, eating more of his cereal. So, springtime was here, half of the semester was over and soon it would be summertime.

Oh, the possibilities, Miami was great but during the summer, Shane had planned to take Ryan to other cities. Visiting New Orleans is a must, Ryan had to know its _real_ humidity, fishing on the port at night and dance until dawn.

Perhaps in June, as a graduation present. He’s been studying all year and soon he’d have to look for another job for his degree, before then, Shane would take him back to their city and he’d confess to him there—on the side of the port, his floaties on both biceps because he didn’t know how to swim.

(Shane would catch him if he fell, he dove in after him like he had in Miami.)

He mentally groaned, time dragged on slower than he initially liked especially when he was in love with a human. There was so much to _do_.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Shane raised his eyebrow, he tore himself from his thoughts and turned to Steven. His mouth was stale, it gathered up saliva as he held cereal in his mouth, he was so lost in his thoughts that he forgot to _chew_. When he swallowed his Lucky Charms, Shane wiped away excess spit from his lip.

“Depends,” he answered, “does it involve anything to do with trains?”

“Please don’t play coy with me,” Steven remarked, he walked across the living room to the coat rack. “You woke me up at night. You had been screaming and I thought you had been working or something. Were you in pain?”

Shane’s face went blank, so he did hear him. He squinted his eyes at Steven and reflected his gaze to his cereal bowl, when he tried to take another quick mouthful, Steven let out a mitterless laugh. 

“I knew you would do this,” he said, tilting his head up to the ceiling, “was it the sword? Is it hurting you? Do you need me to call Ryan—”

“No!” Shane exclaimed a bit too dramatically, he composed himself and rolled his shoulders cooly. “No… I’ll see him later. Let him be, I don’t think he wants to see me right now.”

Steven’s eyebrow raised but he did not question him, he nodded and took the bowl of cereal from the coffee table. “Hey!”

“You don’t deserve this. When you confess to him—and only— when you confess to him. You’ll have it back.” 

“It’d be all soggy...”

“Then you better make it quick,” Steven slammed the bowl on the kitchen counter. “I would start running if I were you.”

“Well,” Shane tapped his hands on his knees and stood from the couch. “Can’t, I gotta go to work.” He began to tuck in the rest of his shirt under his pants, “I have lots to do and my—what’s this?” 

Frozen in place, Shane let go of his shirt to take a better look at what Steven had been holding. Wrapped around his finger was a hook connected to a sole keychain, shaped as a strawberry ice cream cone. He remembered where he’d seen it before, though his memory was flimsy and it came to him in fragmented pieces. 

He… was there, there was somebody laughing as he stumbled over an aisle. His fingers brushed against a set of keychains, he remembered holding the strawberry ice cream cone to somebody, asking them to buy it for him. 

“I was sick so I forgot but when Ryan came over he told me to give it to you,” Steven explained, he turned the keychain to himself and furrowed his eyebrows. “He said it was from London, that you wanted it so bad but you had been kicked out of the store, he went back in to buy it for you.”

Right… right, he was painfully drunk that night. Yet, the gears in his brain began to turn, cobwebs dissipated as they turned fullswing. He did stumble on the set of keychains because he miscalculated where to set his elbow as Ryan paid with his money, he saw the keychain and loved it. 

Went on and on about how it was the cutest thing and almost didn’t leave without it. He made such a commotion that he was kicked out by a patron himself out of the store. And once again, Ryan got him something without thinking about it, something from _London_. From their trip to London. 

The keychain felt like putty in his hands, he squeezed it in his palm. Ryan was such an idiot, a deity didn’t need to use a key, let alone a keychain. But for his sake, he had a set of keys for every room of his house, the front and back door, for this cheaply made keychain to have a home.

“It’s a keychain and you melt at the thought of him thinking about you,” Steven gave him a lopsided grin and turned to the front door. “Think about it before you go to work!”

Upon hearing the slam of the front door, Shane’s knees quivered and he took a step back to his couch before he fell to the ground. This was bad, he didn’t care about the keychain, he was happy because Ryan got it for him, in a drunkard state, he bought it for him.

His heart clenched inside of his chest, the urge to tell Ryan how much he meant hadn’t ever been this strong. It exploded inside of him, like a flush crept up to his face. They had to talk now, because if Shane kept it inside of him longer than necessary he’d… he’d— 

He didn’t know what he’d do.

His legs moved on their own, taking him outside of his house. Phone in hand, his shirt untucked and hair damp from his shower. It was early in the morning, Shane wasn’t sure where Ryan was, at home? At work? At school? 

Where ever he was, Shane would have to find him. He looked through UCLA first, while he knew Ryan’s schedule, he did not know exactly where his classes were.

Campus was large enough but Shane was longer, he sprinted through hallways, through the courtyard and through the library twice before he began to feel the smallest bit of sweat drip down his forehead.

While spring came around, it also became unbearably warm outside. He unbuttoned his shirt a bit and continued on his quest. When he had realized that Ryan wasn’t there, he’d turn to his phone reluctantly. Surprising Ryan was the way to go, he’d kiss him the second he’d see him but since Shane was at a—

His phone vibrated in his grip, he knitted his eyebrows and smiled. _Meet me at the park in ten?_  

He was already heading over there! Of course it would be park! Shane sprinted into another run, stepping down the stairs of Ryan’s campus and out of the door, he breathed in the dry air of Los Angeles and ran faster than he had in his life. Waiting for the crosswalk to turn, he’d send a quick text to Ryan to make sure that he was on his way.

_I’m already on my way_.

As he ran, Shane promised himself to do what he’d say he would. To take Ryan’s face in his hands and tell him how he felt, how his stomach twisted in endless knots when he called him, how his olive skin shimmered in the daytime, how the way he laughed and smiled kept Shane motivated for the rest of the day.

How he’d be the last person he’d ever love in his eternal life and how that would never change. In his next life, he’d love Ryan Bergara just the same.

Shane knew what he was heading into when he reached the park but he did not prepare himself for it. Upon seeing Ryan stand there, confusedly looking around with his own phone in hand, Shane had the urge to let him walk to him because he could no longer support his heavier form. 

His chest rose in rapid breaths as he jogged, that’s when Ryan turned to him. His face brightened up immediately, eyes widened and surprisingly, he ran towards _him_ , too. 

They collided, Shane caught Ryan in his arms as he laughed into him. He was sticky, his shirt stuck to his body and he must have smelled of stale sweat and stolen cereal. Well, that’s up for Ryan to find out because everything that he’d promised himself flew out the window and he had done the inevitable.

He kissed Ryan, holding his face in his hand and kept him steady with his other as his lips graced Ryan’s chin. He pressed his lips there, praying that Ryan didn’t mind his awful aim, it’s been such a long time… he wouldn’t have noticed, would he?

He felt his body flush at Ryan’s touch, arching towards him as he pulled away to kiss his lips this time. Everything hurt from the inside, Shane knew that he was signing the contract to his death right now and if he continued to do this, it would be the end of him as he knew it.

But it felt so _good_.

Like a weight lifted off of his shoulders, he could take a deep breath without worrying about anything else. It was only Ryan and him, there was no marriage, there was no ghosts, nothing but them. And if every kiss felt like the way it is now, then Shane was up for any challenge that came their way.

Shane bent his knees to help Ryan’s neck, when he dove in for another kiss, Ryan followed and smiled, the corners of his lips brushed against Shane’s cheeks, eyelashes fluttered closed. He was out of this world, he _was_ his world now.

In the end, Shane decided that yes, this was totally worth waiting one thousand and forty nine years for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon/morning! Hey! 100 kudos! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I'm very happy that you're all enjoying this story, it's great to see you all thrilled about it like I am!
> 
> Here's an update! I call this chapter, the /angst/ fest also: we don't know what we're doing and we're WINGING it. But also I call this one: the one where Shane has an existential crisis while dating Ryan Bergara. 
> 
> I have a twitter, but I realize that I /forget/ that I have one, so, I made a tumblr! If anybody wants to follow me, ask me things or anything, [link is here!](https://mlnseo.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy this! Comments are kindly appreciated!!! <3 Sorry if there's any punctuation/spelling errors!
> 
> unbeta'd

For as long as Shane lived, he knew that paperwork wasn’t his forte. He _hated_ the idea of sitting down in his office, his legs propped on the desk and cooped up inside a suffocating room for hours into the night. Something about it made him nervous. Others may love the idea of isolation and solitude when it came to working on their job, but for Shane, it just meant he had time to overthink. 

And baby, did he overthink.

He thought about strawberries first; there was a new carton of them at home, fresh ones that he picked out yesterday morning. He had yet to eat them but Ryan told him that they had been deliciously sweet. He thought about Ryan then, his mind tricked him into thinking of a segway where Ryan was involved.

He and Ryan were on good terms, better now since they started _dating_.

Having the utmost title of boyfriends was foreign to Shane, he never thought about it until now and he only hoped they were going in the right direction. It’s still too much to initiate the hand holding, the hug, the _kisses_ , so Shane didn’t and to his relief, neither did Ryan.

Shane liked it, although, kissing Ryan as a greeting wasn’t all that bad either. So, in the end, nothing really changed. They still went on dates occasionally (though less extreme and decided to stay in the city for now,) went to work separately and Ryan continued with his classes.

The only thing that had been different is that Shane had to change his Facebook relationship status to dating Ryan Bergara.

(He didn’t have a Facebook but if he had, he would.)

That’s where this led him now, both of them had been busy these few couple of days except Shane felt better this time than the last. Ryan lived farther from him and the semester ended in a couple of weeks, he would graduate soon and needed time to figure out what he’ll do in the next couple of months.

Ryan told him he felt like a weight would be lifted off his shoulders, he had attended UCLA later than most students but had finished of his degree plan in time. Uncertain of what to do after, Ryan had hinted for an internship.

(Shane beamed, he could work with him!)

Ryan was smart, Shane doubted that he wouldn’t be offered an internship after graduation. And so, the countdown to graduation began, it was in a month and a few days and Shane himself was elated to see Ryan watch the stage for the first time.

(“I already walked the stage twice.”

“It doesn’t count because I wasn’t there to cheer you on.”)

Shane smiled at the thought of Ryan wearing a cap and gown, stashes of honors he accomplished on his shoulders, walking through that stage confidently as he completed school for the last time. Ryan’s been through a lot in the years, while Shane didn’t know what exactly happened to his mother, his aunt stopped trying to contact him. 

She wasn’t an ideal guardian for him and as soon as Ryan had left, she too disappeared into thin air. Ryan’s cousins went along, though they had kept in touch with both Ryan and Shane, telling them both that they were in other words, safe and still attending school.

Ryan was happier, more so than the first time Shane met him. Whenever Shane brushed his hands over his shoulders, he was warmer. Whenever he pressed his fingers on his bicep, he was pure muscle. Whenever Shane locked eyes with him, they twinkled brilliantly, _actually_ squinted when he laughed.

Ryan was healthy and recovering and Shane was happy to be along for the ride.

Shane twisted his pen around his fingers, he let it fall into the stacks of paper on his desk as he sighed. He wanted to see him. 

His client would have to wait a bit longer, Shane was in the mood for a nice burger with his beloved. 

He reached for his phone, pressed on the phone screen to reveal a picture of said man, he took it when Ryan wasn’t looking at the library. Shane swiped his finger to unlock his phone, another picture of Ryan at the library appeared, this time, Ryan was reaching for Shane’s phone, distressed after being caught by photographer Shane Madej.

It was Ryan’s fault anyway, he told him that his phone was lame. Too _default_. If only he knew that he was involved in the creation of the telephone then he wouldn’t complain to him.

_Hey, I hope you’re up for a burger with me_ , he typed and watched as he sent the message eagerly. Why was he so anxious to text Ryan? They were still friends—maybe the thought of Ryan on the other side, _reading_ his text was too much for Shane to take.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his hand vibrate, Ryan’s message appeared on his phone screen. _Sorry! I’m studying! :)_  

Why the smiley face? Shane pouted, he stuck out his bottom lip when he typed out a reply to him. To spite him for the cute smiley face, he added an extra pet name. He grinned menacingly at Ryan’s flustered reply and threw his phone to the side of his desk.

Guess his client would have the advantage after all. 

What a mess. He hated paperwork.

Shane scratched the back of his neck, moving his legs from his desk and sat upright. If he were to work for an extended period of time, then he might as well start now. He scrunched up his face and took his pen back in his hand. 

His client was an older man who introduced his daughter’s would-be business, a business that manufactured beauty and skincare products. His daughter was sent to Shane, she was to inherit his business in a few months and they had wanted as many affiliates as they could in order to move on before the daughter’s father retired.

While the woman looked innocent in nature, she demanded that Shane promptly began the proper paperwork. In _Shane’s nature_ , he would have told her that he wasn’t going to do that because he did not _want_ to. Yet, she pressed on and Shane’s boss decided it would be great to side with her.

He was halfway into the current stack of papers when he felt a shiver run down his body. He trembled.

His body wasn’t used to such a presence, though, he had quite the reaction in case it ever happened. He felt as if he were dreaming from the peak of a mountain and he startled himself awake before he could fall into the grave abyss.

“Are you thinking about something?” A voice called out to him, ripping him out of his daze. “I’m envious, no matter how hard you think about something, you might never get wrinkles.” 

That’s… that’s Ryan alright. To confirm, Shane peered his head to the door, it was wide open and leaning against the doorway was Ryan. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his head inclined towards the entry of the door. Ryan’s mouth curved into a smile when Shane looked at him, his eyes flashed with rascality. 

Oh. It _was_ Ryan. Shane should have known a fierce, powerful presence like his would render him speechless. 

Just for fun, Shane mickied a shudder.

“How did you get in here?” Shane asked enthusiastically, his eyebrows drew together as he stood up.

“Steven let me in,” Ryan replied.

Shane rolled his eyes and tapped his knuckled on his desk, “of course he did. I thought you said you were studying.”

“I lied,” Ryan clicked his tongue, “I wanted to surprise you. I was halfway here when you texted me. Also, _darling?_ Really?”

“Well,” Shane turned the corner, taking two strides to reach his boyfriend and leaned down to press a kiss on his forehead. “Can’t say it’s not your fault, you rejected me before I got a chance to ask you out.”

Ryan’s eyes widened and he moved his head away shyly. While they didn’t greet each other with a kiss publically, much less a kiss on the lips, Shane always made sure to. He loved to see Ryan’s shoulders sag, relaxing only in Shane’s eyes.

Though, the kiss had Shane’s heart throbbing unusually faster than before and he, himself took a step back just in case. It wasn’t that it was awkward between them… maybe, it was the thought of them _being_ a couple amazed both of them. Whenever they saw each other, it would be tense touches and brushes against a shoulder, they haven’t kissed in a week.  

Shane liked the pace and if he wanted to kiss Ryan, he could do so if he were to ask.

“Are you working?” Shane shook his head, he looked down at Ryan who pointed behind his shoulder. “Did I interrupt?”

As much as Shane wanted to deny, he couldn’t, work was work. And work came second after Ryan, though, it was his job and he had a responsibility to commit.

“Nah,” Shane answered, but... he was a one thousand year old deity, who cares? “It’s for a client, she’s inherited her father’s beauty product business. You want a sheet mask? I might get you one for free.” 

“No thanks,” Ryan’s eyes bore into him, “should I wait until you’re done? I’m actually up for a couple of beers… a burger or two.” 

“Sweet, I'll be done in a minute,” Shane nodded his head, he watched as Ryan smiled at him and turned back into the living room. Shane heard the vague sound of the television from where he stood, however Ryan only reached halfway down the stairs before Shane snapped his fingers. 

Behind him, the paperwork he had initially wanted to finish on his own scattered itself around the room, flowing into the ceiling as his pen flew to write his signature around the highlighted line. In a split second, they arranged themselves into organized stacks, some gathered into his briefcase and others to the fax machine for the lady in charge.

It was cheating in its purest form, but he had a boyfriend to look after and entertain for the night. “Ready!” 

Ryan jumped, he gripped onto the railing and whirled around. “Already? What the hell!?”

Shane grinned, teeth and all, he untucked his shirt out of his black pants and run a hand through his hair. “See? I’m completely disheveled.”

“Stop making such a commotion,” another voice grumbled, “get out of my house before you make the television disappear again.” Steven himself had been on the couch, munching on Shane’s share of snack mix from a small green bowl, he did not look at any of them and kept his eyes on the television.

“You’re evil,” Ryan gaped at him mockingly, “why would you do such a thing to him! It's a _flat_ _screen_ TV!”

“He was grounded,” Shane remarked and lightly kicked his foot to Steven’s legs that were propped up on the coffee table. “Put them down, we’re going out. Lights out at ten.”

“Oh… so he was younger.”

“I was sixteen,” Steven glowered at Shane, but took his legs off the coffee table. “Listen old man, don’t tell me what to do.”

Shane stomped his leg and lolled his head to Ryan, “do you see how difficult he's being? All I do… for him…” 

“Please be quiet,” Ryan warned, “stop messing around or I’m kicking the both of you out.” Though, he plastered a smile on his face and placed his hand on Shane’s nape. Shane smiled one last time before straightening himself up, he was hungry. 

“We’re going out,” Ryan echoed Shane's words as his boyfriend shrugged on his blazer, “do you want to go with us?”

Steven crunched on a piece of pretzel, “the last thing I want to do on this fine Tuesday night is third-wheel with you both. _I_ have work tomorrow _and_ school.”

“So what? Ryan does too—”

“Are you sure? Do you want anything—”

“We’ll bring you back some hot wings, hermit,” Shane, impatient and hungry said, then extended his hand to Ryan. “He likes the hot wings.”

Shane startled himself when his hand suddenly grew warmer than before. When he looked down, he realized that Ryan had took hold of his hand— oh, so this is how they’re playing now.

“Ah sorry,” Ryan raised his chin to Shane and tried to loosen his grip on Shane’s hand. “It… by reflex… my hand—” 

“It’s a reflex to hold my hand?” Shane didn’t let go of Ryan’s hand, instead he interviewed their fingers. When Ryan’s cheeks turned pink, he squeezed his hand, “I hope it’s a reflex when it’s _me_ _._ ”

“You’re the worst and I literally despise you,” Ryan quipped, though his grip didn’t falter. He whirled around, taking Shane by the hand and out of the door. 

“Wait, wait,” Shane held the front door in his hand, “where do you want to go? We haven’t decided… we can’t teleport anywhere—” He shut his mouth when Ryan looked away from him with a forlorn expression. Oh. He wanted to _walk_ together… good one Shane, way to keep things awkward between you both. 

“I—”

“No, you’re—”

“Oh, _my god_!” Steven barked from the couch, “you’re both amateurs! Are you sure you’re both not pre-teens on their first date? Have you no shame!”

“Why are you yelling? I told you this is a first for me,” Shane shrugged soberly, he kept his eyes on Ryan, watching as he bit his lip in thought. Before he knew it, Ryan lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What—are you saying it’s different now than the other times we’ve gone out together?” Ryan’s tone grew quiet, and Shane felt like he took his heart out and clenched it in his veiny hand. 

“That’s not what I meant—if you want to walk together that’s fine, I don’t mind spending as much time with you.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

“Then I’ll teleport us there!” 

“A-ha! So you admit teleporting us to New Orleans before!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

Ryan huffed, “fine,” with a strong pull of theirlocked hands, he took hold of the front door and yanked it open before pulling Shane out of the house effortlessly. Shane stumbled on his feet, he struggled to balance himself until he tried to walk down his porch stairs.

“Manhandling me… is that your go-to, honey?”

“I’m hungry, Shane,” Ryan walked in front of him, holding his hand and keeping each other at least a foot away. While Shane struggled to keep pace, he realized that it wasn’t as different as he thought it would be. In a regular night, he and Ryan would drink irresponsibly to the point to holding onto each other. Shane knew that, he was epitome of a fussy drunk.

Ryan was worse.

Shane smiled, he narrowed his eyes on the back of his boyfriend’s head, the way his denim jacket moved when he did and how his hair stirred, flawlessly gelled. He could loom over him and stare for days if he had the chance, his boyfriend was handsome.

Suddenly, Shane felt Ryan stop and Shane did not, and he collided with Ryan’s back. He let out a grunt and steadied himself with his shoulders, “what’s up?”

Ryan turned around slowly, making sure their hands unlocked. “We… we are idiots. Where are we going?”

“Ah…” Shane had been too caught up with admiring Ryan’s structured back muscles that he never noticed that they’ve arrived at the bus stop. “Fuck, this is the wrong way—” 

“Maybe we should have—”

“No, no, this is fine, I—”

Well. Shane stopped talking, what was going on? Why was everything so _weird_?

Was there tension in the air that he felt? Was it not Los Angeles, it was _them_? Shane’s jaw tightened and he locked eyes with Ryan. He looked unsure too, almost reconsidering going home to his apartment and regret ever dating Shane. 

He wouldn’t blame him if that’s what he wanted.

“Do you… want to go to Tasty? Kelsey isn’t working tonight… and we have a new chef… he cooks burgers.”

That—that was the opposite of what Shane expected out of Ryan. He was surprised, especially since Ryan didn’t leave his side and stared at him like he had all the answers in the world. 

“I don’t mind to go anywhere as long as I’m with you,” Shane admitted, the words that came out of his mouth where the ones that he thought of, he didn’t want to sugarcoat it or lie to Ryan, it was the truth.

Ryan gave him a soft smile and took his hand again, leading them both to the right direction. This time, they walked side by side together, one step at a time. 

They talked on their way there, though, Ryan did most of the talking. He talked about his future, where his graduation ceremony would be and what he wanted to do in the summer. Two of those topics were undecided, which was okay, Ryan didn’t need to pressure himself with everything at once.

When Shane graduated college (sixty seven times,) he had no plan and he turned out alright! Though, he wasn’t human and had a plan B (to steal gold from the rich) and Ryan was both a human and could not steal without getting caught.

“Are you saying you’ve done a heist? Alone?” Ryan inquired when they both walked towards an empty booth inside Tasty, his eyes squinted and gawked at the restaurant's dimmer lights. Ryan was right, Kelsey wasn’t clocked in, yet her absence didn’t stop customers from piling in, the place was full.

“You’ve ever heard of the Gardner Museum heist?”

“No, I haven’t— was that you?”

“Half of me was, it’s a long story. I might have gotten involved on accident.” 

Ryan’s jaw dropped, “how did you get involved. On accident?”

“I was—” Shane leaned forward on the table, he pressed his elbows on the table. “It’s a long story, you might as well sit back and relax.” He grinned when Ryan fell back to the crease of the booth humorously, laughing then grew quiet when Shane ordered the first round for them.

It was a wacky story—a story that had been fifteen minutes—took an hour and a half to tell, (mostly because Ryan kept _interrupting_ him and laughed albeit too noisily whenever Shane had to explain that it wasn’t _his_ fault that he dropped most of the paintings and deemed them worthless.)

A few hours into their date, Ryan had scooted over his side of the booth and Shane squeezed himself in, this time Ryan wanted to hear him talk about the time he visited Russia. There wasn’t much to say there, Shane hardly remembered but he knew that he was inadvertently drafted into a war that he didn't know about.

(“Now you’re going to tell me it was you who started Russia’s war.”

“It wasn’t Ivan.”

“Shane!”)

At two in the morning, or at least that's what Shane thought it was, they both walked to Ryan’s house. As expected, they were clinging onto each other and their linked hands from before turned into side-hugging. He had Ryan’s arms wrapped around his waist as he balanced himself with the side of the building wall.

“You’re not as light as you think you are,” Shane grieved for his shoulder but continued walking along the sidewalk. “You’re one-hundred percent muscle at this point.”

“Hmm, it’s all that food you feed me,” Ryan joked, he squeezed his arms and giggled into Shane’s collared shirt. Earlier, he had teased Ryan that he wouldn’t hug him by the end of the night, now he was paying for it with his life. It served _him_ right.

“I should continue,” Shane mentally noted, “are you eating at home? Should I cook for you again?” 

“I’m eating, I’m _still_ eating the food you bought,” Ryan hiccuped. “Breakfast.” 

“It’s two in the morning, you’re not going to eat anymore, you’re sleeping.” 

“No I—” Ryan slurred, he straightened himself up and slung his arm around Shane’s shoulder. Their height difference made this difficult for him, as six foot Shane was forced down to Ryan’s weeny height. “Stay over and make me breakfast.”

“Ah… I have no clothes.”

“Sleep naked.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Shane nibbled on his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing, he removed Ryan’s arm from his shoulder and instead hugged _him_ to Ryan’s apartment complex. “I’d stay over if you like, don’t try to kick me out in the morning though.”

“‘M won’t,” Ryan pointed his finger at Shane, “I can’t cook eggs. They burn.”

“You’re like a child, we’re here, give me your keys.”

“A child can’t cook eggs, silly,” Ryan beamed then reached for the side of his pant pockets, he brushed his fingers on Shane’s hand when he handed over his keys. “You can sleep on the couch, you like it there.”

Shane does not like the couch. Kelsey’s couch is approximately the length of a petite teenager—it would be a miracle that he wouldn’t wake up with a cramp on both legs.

(It would be payback for the time he slept on Ryan’s thighs.)

When they ended up inside, Shane snapped his fingers to turn on the lights inside the apartment and Ryan fell from his hold to the hallway floor. “I shouldn’t have ordered a sixth round.” 

Ryan wordlessly agreed and smiled, nodding his head before falling into another laughing fit. Shane picked him up by his arm and drew him close, “alright, sleep time for you.” 

“Okay,” Ryan nodded again and turned his heel to the living room. He made it two steps before stumbling on the wall, Shane was no better, he tried to reach for him and ended up tripping over his own shoes. Once Ryan balanced himself, he laughed and so did Shane, his chest tight with the need to laugh along with his boyfriend.

Before he knew it, he had Ryan in his grip and placed his hand on the bottom of his spine then leaned down to routinely peck him on the lips. He pressed his lips to his for a long second before pulling away, “seriously, let's get you to bed.”

“Would you be cold?” 

“Don’t worry about me, dear,” Shane continued to pull him to his bedroom, “I’m an old man, I’ll figure it out.”

“Hardly old,” Ryan grumbled, he began to take his off shirt, messing up his hair and threw it on the side of the room.

Shane turned away soon after, before he had already _done_ it and he saw more than he should. Ryan’s stomach was _toned_ , and if he thought that his arms were muscular, there wasn’t anything to compare to his stomach.

“Wait—” Shane didn’t move from his spot by the doorway when he felt Ryan’s hand on his nape. When he turned around, Ryan’s lips captured his delicately, pecking him longer than Shane did before pulling away. It left Shane stunned, frozen in place that he couldn’t even bring himself to admire his boyfriend’s bare chest.   

“Goodnight Shane,” he murmured as his mouth curved itself into a smile, he ran his fingers sensuously over the hairs on Shane’s nape.

Shane, finally to his senses, leaned down to kiss him once, twice and a third time. Their pecks shorter than the last and Shane knew that tonight wasn’t the night for anything else, “goodnight Ryan. Sleep well alright?”

“Would you be there when I wake up?” 

Shane nodded, “I will.”

 

* * *

 

He felt the inescapable pound of his head, like somebody had been drilling inside of his skull and vibrated said sound to circulate to each of his limbs. The second thought: where is he? No doubt that he was half naked on a bed, but was it his? God, hope it was.

Ryan opened his eyes, lazily blinking away the throbbing headache to finally see his bedroom. He had been sleeping on his stomach, drooling all over his pillow before he woke up. So, it was his bed and that vibration from before was his _phone_.

On the screen it read half past eight, an hour and a half before his first class. Routinely, Ryan groaned, pressed on the side of the phone to snooze it and swung both legs to the side of the bed. When he stood, he slipped on a pair of pants strewed on the floor. 

Huh, so he was naked. 

Ryan laid on the floor, hands on his knees, this led him to his final thought, where did he stuff Shane’s body?

It was the only logical explanation, he knew that they didn’t sleep together by the lack of Shane on his bed. More so that they’d previously agreed if they were too drunk to even speak, they would sleep or stay away from each other as much as possible to avoid any sort of embarrassment.

He had killed him, Ryan murdered his boyfriend in a drunken state. 

Grimacing at the thought, he picked himself up and began to dress himself. No, that can’t be it, Shane must be sleeping in the couch… if he was just as hungover as Ryan (which was nearly impossible,) he must have at least half of the brain to remember the events of last night.

Scratching his bed hair, Ryan pivoted out of his bedroom and into the cool living room. The curtains were shut, permitting little to no light into the room, and Ryan didn’t have the energy to look for the lamp switch at the moment. Yet, in the gloomy living room and the limited amount of sunrise that drew inside, he saw Shane sprawled in his couch. 

He didn't fit, his legs hung from the side of the couch and left him to sleep on his back with one of his arms behind his head. He was a pitiful sight, wearing his collared shirt and black pants, at least he had the decency to take his shoes off. Shane had his mouth wide open, drool fell to the side of his mouth gracelessly and Ryan had the urge to dump water on him to see him choke to death.

What the fuck was he thinking drinking on a Tuesday? Why did Shane have to tempt him? 

Deciding that he would kick him awake, Ryan walked over to his boyfriend and— and tapped his shoulder. “Hey, wake up, you big loaf.”

Shane did not move, and in that moment Ryan was sure that he actually _did_ kill him. He tapped him again, later shaking him until he groaned into the side of the couch. “Nm—” he mumbled, twisting his body to hide himself further into the sorry excuse of a blanket he had.

“If you’re alive, you might as well make me breakfast,” Ryan persuaded, shaking him again and walking to the curtains to draw them open. He smiled when Shane wrinkled his nose and opened his eyes to glare at him.

“That’s why I stayed over, little guy.”

“Come on, get cooking. I have class.”

“Do you not have a headache? What time is it?” Shane sat up on the couch, stretching his unearthly limbs in the air.

“It’s nearly nine,” Ryan answered, he walked over back to the couch and sat next to Shane, tossing his body onto the side of the couch. “And yes, I have a _headache_. It hurts, almost as much as my heart—”

“Oh, poor baby.”

“—because my stomach is just as empty.”

Shane chuckled and Ryan felt one of his jumbo hands on his back, wonderfully tracing his spine with his fingers. Ryan automatically relaxed to the comforting touch before Shane pulled away to stand to his feet. “Fine, do you want eggs?”

“It’d be nice if you gave me a massage for the rest of the day,” Ryan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and covering them with his hands. Fuck, he was an idiot.

“Alright, get up, you need water in your body.” 

“You just wanna show off,” Ryan exposed, he let Shane haul him from the couch and into his arms. They walked into the kitchen together, but only Ryan shut his eyes when the lights turned on.

“I do,” Shane confessed, then pushed him into a stool. “I make a mean omelette.”

Ryan wanted to comment or taunt him, but he found himself crying out in pain as a new wave of dizziness hit him. He heard Shane coo at him before kissing him on the cheek, obscenely and leaving a disgusting trail of slobber behind.

“That’s so gross and if I had the energy I would beat your ass right here, pal.”

“I know,” was Shane’s response, he turned away from Ryan and offered him a glass of water. “Drink this, your gourmet breakfast would be done in a few minutes.”

“I’d always knew that you’d be my servant,” Ryan drank his water.

“I was a King’s servant once,” Ryan watched as Shane moved around in his kitchen, he had only one pan to cook with. And he knew that his fridge had been stocked up when Shane realized that he was unable to buy his own food, (who knew Chipotle wasn’t a healthy option?)

“Sick. Tell me more about it,” Ryan beckoned, but his smile faded when he saw Shane falter in his movements suddenly. Ah. 

Shane’s past was intriguing to Ryan, it always was, though there were times where Shane never wanted to talk about certain parts of his life.

It had happened in London once over a fountain, this seemed to be the second time. Ryan respected it, Shane couldn’t have been a saint all his life, people change and he knew that one’s mindset couldn’t stay the same for a long period of time.

He didn’t know about Shane’s family nor about his true origin, Ryan knew about the extravagant adventures he had, about the different types of careers he studied for, of the many places he’s seen and people he met. If Shane wanted Ryan to remember him that way, then it would stay that way.

It was sort of a morbid thought, Shane lived for years and years and Ryan was a twenty-six year old student. He had nothing to talk about, he wasn’t as interesting as Shane was. But he also had things that he kept to himself.

“Shane?”

Shane jumped and turned his head over his shoulder. Nothing in his face gave away that he was pensive, but Ryan knew. “My omelette... Shane.” 

Shane’s eyes narrowed for a split moment before they lit up. “Right! What kind of toppings do you want on it?” 

Ryan ate his breakfast—

(“It’s great right? Better than those sandwiches you buy.”

“They’re just as great—”

“I don’t want to hear it, my cooking exceeds anybody’s expectation!”)

—and freshened himself up in time for his class. Since Shane had stayed over at the last minute and _since_ they spent an extra half hour talking to each other, he was to use his stupid deity ability to pop mysteriously to his house instead of walking to Ryan’s school together.  

“I’ll call you later?” Ryan asked, taking his backpack in hand as they stood by the hallway. He had a minor headache, though Shane pressed his fingers on his temples, swearing that he also healed the sick. It must have worked because Ryan was actually fine walking around.

“Yeah, during lunch would be fine? Any plans for tonight?”

“Can’t, I have to study… finals are soon.”

“I gotta,” Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “Work with that new client, too… did I ever tell you that I hate paperwork?”

“Almost everyday,” Ryan toyed with his apartment keys, stood on his tip toes and kissed Shane's chin. “Leave now or I’ll be late.”

“Fine… I’ll leave,” Shane opened the door, but before he could step outside of Ryan’s apartment, he whirled around and pressed both hands on Ryan’s flushed cheeks. He leant down to kiss him, still like the first time, his aim wasn’t that precise and he ended up pecking most of Ryan’s upper lip.

“Okay!” Ryan giggled when he pulled away, he wanted to slap Shane’s smug smile from his face. “Leave! Leave!”

“Bye honey, see you later!” With that, Shane walked over from his apartment first, and not following behind was Ryan himself.

 

* * *

 

Ryan walked to school unhurriedly. Despite him missing a quarter of his first class, he strolled inside the lecture room with a smile. Maybe it had been how he spent his morning, but he knew he was bouncing in excitement when his professors explained the rules for their finals.

Finals meant the last few weeks in a semester which _also_ meant that graduation was literally right _there_. Ryan felt a bit melancholic to leave school for good, yet he couldn’t wait to _get_ out as fast as he could. Even though it had been April, Ryan had yet to search for a job.

Kelsey’s (former) apartment wasn’t cheap (he knew that it wouldn’t be since he obviously lived in Los Angeles) and he had to find a stable job with a better pay than the one he’d been used to at Tasty. Don’t get him wrong, he hasa proper income because of Tasty—he planned to increase his finances after he'd get his degree. 

In order to do that, he’ll need experience in the field... and internships. A few weeks prior, Ryan decided that he’ll take in an internship job during the summer, anything to help his chances. Though, few weeks later, Ryan still pushed it aside.

“What if you’d work with—” Jen rolled her shoulders and lowered her voice. “ _Shane_? I’m sure he'll love to give you a position as an intern.”

“Anything but that,” Ryan groaned, he scrolled through the work listing on his phone. It reminded him of the way he’d try to look for a job the old-fashioned way, but now that he had _money_ , he had a better way to find a job electronically. “I don’t want it to look like I’m using my boyfriend as a free ride to success.”

“Ah,” Jen laughed, “I see. I have no experience with jobs. I died before I could get my first one.”

“With all the time you spend at Tasty, I’m sure you work there too,” he looked up and gave her a smile before averting his eyes back to his phone. It was past noon now, he had just finished the last of his classes for today and sat outside in the courtyard. 

During these last few weeks, the library was packed with students rushing to study before D-Day. Ryan wasn’t in the mood to look for a seat in the field of students, besides, Jen came in before he left because she wanted to gossip and rant to him. He doubted that he’d get anything done with her around. 

“Hey Ryan!” At the call of his name, Ryan lifted his chin to the direction of the voice. Across the courtyard stood Brent, his classmate, he turned to the group of people Ryan didn't recognize before sprinting towards Ryan.

“Oh I love drama,” Jen crooned, she giggled and rubbed her hands together.

Ryan waved to Brent and whispered to her, “it’s not drama, stop gossiping with Maycie—hey man! How’s it been?”

“It’s been alright,” Brent answered, “listen, a couple of friends and I were going out for lunch, did you want to come with?”

“Sure!” Ryan beamed, he stood from the bench and stuffed his phone away. “Where to?”

Brent’s whole face lit up as he swung an arm over Ryan’s shoulder. “Across the street that’s all. I won’t keep you long, I promise.” He then took hold of Ryan’s bicep, shaking it slightly in his grip. “You’re getting buffier, have you been working out?” 

“Not that I remember…” Ryan thought about it, a gym membership sounded nice, too. He’ll probably work on his upper body first, try to get as much strength to his arms—delude the idea that his strength equalled that to a toddler. “It’s probably because of Shane buying me food.” 

“Let me thank your boyfriend,” Brent greeted his friends, introducing Ryan as his friend and led the way to delicious lunch. It wasn’t as awkward as he deemed it out to be, Ryan liked Brent and his friends were pretty cool. Though, they spoke too much about sports— something that would often be drowned out by Ryan.

“Have you thought about what you’d be doing in the next few months?” Brent asked him when they picked at their unfinished sandwiches, the sportstalk from the other three lost amongst themselves as they yelled over each other about who was the best player in the season. 

“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, “it’s not really going well, I’m not sure If it’s because I’m picky as hell—”

“Well, you did spend fifteen minutes trying to decide what cheese you wanted—”

“— _Or_ if I’m too chicken to move on,” Ryan wiped his hands with his napkin and placed his elbows on the table. “What about you?”

“I’m sure I’ve told you much about me,” Brent admitted, rather embarrassed about it too. The day after he and Shane began to date, Ryan made sure to tell Brent about _dating_ Shane. He was polite about it, yet he had been sure that Ryan and Shane been dating for months.

There wasn’t any foul feelings between them, if anything, it lifted that extra weight on Ryan’s shoulders. “Not everything, we didn’t get to that point. I’m sure your life is planned out until you’ve reached the age of forty.”

“ _Forty-five_ ,“ Brent corrected, nitpicking at his half-eaten sandwich. “Yes, I’m good for now. In the summer, I’ll be working with my cousins at a ski—resort.”

“Oh that’s right!” One of Brent’s friends chimed in gleefully, his blonde hair bounced as he pointed at Ryan. “You should come with us! We’ve been planning to go in July.”

“I… I don’t know—” 

“Hey man, leave him alone. It’s not even a trip! I’m _working_ there!” Brent protested, “you invited yourselves.”

“At a ski resort though, isn’t that a bit random? Considering your degree.”

Brent turned his head to Ryan and smiled. “In life, one has jobs that have nothing to do with your degree.”

“Oh wise,” a voice called out beside Ryan, too hungry to realize that Jen followed him to the sandwich shop. He tried not to turn to face her, she was intrigued by the soap opera playing in one of the televisions.

“My cousin owns it.”

“And rich!”

“Every summer, I go up to Dodge to work with him and help out the family. It’s become a tradition of sorts.”

“He has nothing on the goblin, I say you break up with that fool—”

“Still,” Ryan wrinkled his nose and stretched on his chair as a diversion to brush his hand behind him. He signaled for Jen to leave but had only gotten a wave of cool air on the back of his neck. “Quite random.”

 

* * *

 

After two weeks of studying, Ryan tossed most of his textbooks in the garbage. (Metaphorically, of course, he still needed them until May.)

But he physically couldn’t take reading the _same_ three to four paragraphs everyday, much less take notes about it. He remembered Jen’s words, where she had told him that he’ll regret taking Statistics. 

He understood. He regretted it.

Ryan stood by his word however, and tried to fathom what he was reading and anything that his professor was talking about during his lectures. And before he knew it, he was back on track with his homework and work. Job searching had been on a short hiatus, he, of all people knew that if you have too much on your shoulders, you would crash and want to die.

And fail—don’t forget fail. 

Kelsey refused to let him leave, she had cursed at him when he told her that he wanted to quit by September, then she encouraged it a day later when Shane cursed at _her._  His boyfriend was supportive, a little over the top that Ryan would feel like he’ll disappoint him if he ended up as a waiter for the rest of his life.

Shane only laughed at him, telling him that Ryan had over millions of careers to choose from and if he had to go through all of them, he still wouldn’t disappoint Shane. 

(“Except prostitution,” Kelsey declared, “you can’t be a prostitute, Ryan. Shane, don’t let him.”)

Ryan mentally cringed, Shane couldn’t stop laughing at said joke, then _joked_ about how he never gotten into _that_ before. Thank god, Ryan didn’t need to think about his current immortal boyfriend bedding strangers when he was at _work_.

“Why are you thinking about brothels Ryan?” Somebody murmured to him, he jumped and turned his head briskly. Shane grinned, he loomed over Ryan’s right side, face too close for comfort. “You think awfully loud when you’re working.”

“If you ever been to a brothel,” Ryan began, he blinked casually towards Shane, “never tell me, I’d like to sleep peacefully tonight.”

Because it was a slow Tuesday morning, Ryan stood on his tiptoes and _—_ with the help of the bar counter _—_ kissed Shane’s lips. His boyfriend accepted his kiss happily, he dove in for two quick pecks.

“I see,” Shane nodded and pulled away from Ryan and leaned on the bar counter with his elbow. His stupid condescending smile grew wider, “I don’t recall visiting any brothels at the top of my head.”

_This guy—_

Before Ryan could reply, Steven walked over and threw his notepad on the counter, “let’s keep it that way, please. Anybody who doesn’t work here and _has_ to return to work, please do so.” 

Shane gasped and pointed a finger at Steven, “baby, he’s kicking me out!”

“He’s a step ahead of me,” Ryan grumbled, taking the notepad in his hands. “Why did Kelsey have to take a break today? She likes to take these kinds of orders…”

“She said that she wanted to go to that parade.”

“And here I thought she was sick,” Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Parades are awful, I’m sure she’s having a blast.”

“I agree,” Shane lifted his hand, “I once attended a _Krampus_ -style parade and I was sure that I wasn’t even in the same planet—”

“Ryan, could you take that order, please? I have to sit down for a while,” Steven interrupted, he wasn't angry, the opposite actually. He and Ryan opened shop at nine in the morning; he wasn’t on the schedule but Kelsey _did_ voluntarily take the day off. 

Steven had been reserved all morning, when Ryan asked or tried to talk to him, he would cower away from him and disappear for a few minutes. While Ryan hated to admit out loud, he would have preferred if Shane returned to work and try to get anything out of Steven.

Speaking of, his boyfriend was neutral towards Steven’s moody behavior. Shane talk to Ryan about it, not even after their short lunch there at the restaurant with him.

“Yeah, man,” Ryan nodded, “go sit down for a while.” Steven gave him a stiff nod and turned on his heel, all the while rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. When he was out of view, Ryan directed his gaze to Shane, playing on his phone.

Ryan opened his mouth but closed it. Sometimes, the uncle didn’t need to get involved. Ryan promptly retrieved his customer’s order and yelled out to Shane about taking something from the storage room. His boyfriend replied with a fleeting wave of his hand.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Is that what that was?” Steven raised his chin but stood from the booth he sat on. “What’s up?”

“In the storage room? Where the big guy can’t hear us?” 

“Oh no,” Steven blanched, he took in a sharp exhale and tried to get away from Ryan. He was faster and took Steven’s shoulders in his hands. “Don’t make me do this _now_.” 

“When? Shane isn’t going to leave and you're upset about _something_.”

“I hate _—_ when you do this.”

“I’m sure that it’d make you feel better,” Ryan turned over his shoulder to see Shane distracted by his phone. He wasn’t even touching it anymore, he was _watching_ something. “Come on.”

Steven groaned but let himself be pulled towards the storage room. Most of Ryan’s time _—_ when he first began working at Tasty _—_ was spent in the storage room. Not because Jen would verbally push him in there to talk to him during his break, but because he’ll sometimes lock himself in there by accident. 

“So,” Ryan started, leaning back on one of the shelves with assorted hot drinks, Ryan’s didn’t indulge in sugar water or soda, but it did look like Steven _needed_ one. He tossed a bottle of Pepsi towards Steven, who caught it after a few seconds of it slipping through his fingers. “You want to drink that and tell me what’s up?”

“I hate Pepsi,” Steven lifted the bottle, “but I’ll tell you what’s up. Like the devil you are, dragging me into a claustrophobic, spooky storage room to interrogate me.”

“Stop stalling,” Ryan warned coolly, smiling at his boyfriend’s adoptive nephew, “we’re open and customers could come in any second—” 

“I was thinking of moving out,” Steven blurted out, he extended his arms as if to say _there, I told you._

When he realized that Ryan didn’t seem to be dazzled by his confession, he sighed and twisted the cap of the Pepsi bottle to open it. It sizzled for a moment before he chugged a good bit of the soda. “I _want_ to move out,” Steven went on after he swallowed the sugary tragedy, he scrunched up his face in disgust. 

“What’s stopping you?” Ryan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “It sounds like you’ve been planning ahead.”

“And I haven’t, I was just _thinking_ about it,” Steven rolled his eyes, “besides, leaving Shane? Wouldn’t that be cruel?”

There it was. Of course, Steven’s heart was as big as Ryan’s boyfriend’s ego.

He would think of his uncle on top of his own future. Ryan was seconds away from telling Steven that Shane was a big boy, that he could take care of himself when he realized his _true_ concern.

Because of Steven’s minor slip up months ago, Ryan knew that Shane was sensitive and wouldn’t last a day without somebody for him to keep his company. He’s been alone for centuries, and a small percentage of his life, he’d spent it in Los Angeles—where it had rained daily for almost twenty-seven years.

“You’re thinking about him too,” Steven alleged, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’ve been living with him since I was a child, how could I leave him so suddenly?”

“It wouldn’t be sudden,” Ryan gave him a uneasy smile. He was bad at giving advice, more so about Shane’s well-being. “If you want my honest opinion. I can’t tell the future but I’m sure that Shane would be happy to see you leave the nest.”

“What a weird way to put it.”

“He _will_ be ecstatic to see you move on with your life. Whatever you need to do, you do it, and Shane will be right behind you.”

Steven’s shoulders relaxed at his words, his forced smile disappeared as he nodded slowly. He was pondering about what his next step would be, if Ryan let him think _too_ hard he might stay with Shane until he’s an old man.

Worried for Steven’s successful future and sleep schedule, Ryan joked: “Far as I know, he’ll be the one happy to save money by using less water.”

“That asshole! I don’t use  _any_ of the water now! ” Steven accused, “he minimized shower time to _ten_ minutes! He cuts it off when I’m in there! If anything—”

“—Now you’d have a reason to move out. Now, to stop you from thinking about it any longer,” Ryan turned his head to the storage room door, he didn’t hear the entrance bell ring during their talk, but he had heard Shane call for his name. “I also have a secret to hide from your uncle.”

Steven raised both eyebrows, “is that so? What? Have you realized the mistake you made when you accepted his proposal?”

“What?” Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, “No, that’s not it. My friend Brent had invited me to somewhere _cool_  over the summer and I was _thinking_ about going there for a while—but knowing Brent and I’s past, I’m not sure that—” 

“What’s this about Brent and I’s past?” A voice interrupted Ryan, the owner of said voice peaked into from the storage room door. Shane’s head popped in, he narrowed his eyes at Steven drinking Pepsi and his boyfriend talking about his not-so-really-ex-date. “What the hell are you both in here for? Secrecy?”

“Yes,” Steven told him before Ryan could, finally, he twisted on the cap to the half-empty Pepsi and tossed the bottle to Shane, who did not catch it. “Ryan was telling me something that you’re not allowed to hear about.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“I heard Brent,” Shane reiterated, he kicked the Pepsi bottle aside as he moved inside of the storage room. It took a few strides to stand in front of Ryan, “what were you saying about Brent?” 

“Why are you interrogating me all of a sudden?” Ryan deadpanned, he messed with his fingernails nonchalantly, “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Have you forgotten? I can read your mind?”

“Why aren’t you doing it?”

“I trust you,” Shane grinned, “and I trust you to tell me where Brent invited you over the summer.”

Ryan smiled back, no intention of telling his boyfriend that Brent had invited _him_ to another city for two months _without_ his boyfriend around. Jealousy must have run down the Madej’s bloodline, since Shane had been soberly asking him about this—unlike the time he stared at a friendly female ghost in London until she left Ryan alone.

The ring atop of Tasty’s front door rang, it’s songlike ring echoed through the storage room and Steven turned his head to see who had arrived. “Hey, look at that Kelsey’s here, and she got things!”

“I got things!” Kelsey’s own voice was heard, muffled. Well, Ryan could hear her words faintly because Shane had locked him in a chokehold, pressing his ear to his chest. 

“She got things,” Ryan drawled, his boyfriend let him go with a groan. “We should go see what things she’s got.” 

“Wait a minute! Wait— _Argh_!”

Ryan walked out of the storage room first, he smiled when Kelsey came into view, her hair sticking out in different directions and her tank top drenched in glitter. He smiled wider when he heard Shane ask Steven if he had any grim reapers on speed dial—one that may or may not visit Brent on their free time. 

Ryan let out a loud laugh when Steven told him to get over himself. 

 

* * *

 

“What about this? How does this sound?” 

Shane turned his head over his shoulder, he continued to stir his spoon inside the cup of coffee he’s made. Because Ryan’s not a fan of tea, he’s been drinking coffee a lot. He doesn’t mind, he’d grown to love the taste of bittersweet creamer and caffeine at eleven in the morning.

He was at Ryan’s apartment, waking up tousled (on the floor, instead of the cursed couch) and unaware of where he was for the first few minutes. It wasn’t until Ryan came in an hour after he’d woken up looking like he’d been through the washing machine himself, he knew that he was in for a treat.

“What is it?”

“An internship,” Ryan claimed from the living room. Shane heard him shuffle on the couch, “summer only, over eighteen years of age, a degree in Journalism, Liberal Arts or—”

“That’s perfect—”

“And two years of previous experience.”

Shane raised his eyebrow, if he had his way, he’ll falsify Ryan’s resume himself. Though the man had told him that it would be unfair to _him_ and that a deity had no business to his life.

(Shane acted as if he was offended. He wasn’t.)

Yesterday, he and Ryan spent the day together as it was both of their days off. Just last night, Ryan came to his side and begged for his help. While Shane didn’t get a chance to give his input after Ryan passed out, he’d told him to give himself room to breathe. 

He knew that Ryan was stressed about his long-time career, like most humans were. Shane had it easy, spending all of his money to attend the finest Universities where he’d cheat his way to the top; eventually employers and employees alike offered him positions at _their_ companies immediately after he graduated.

And now, as Ryan didn’t have the privilege that he had, they had both ended up together on the couch looking for internships and jobs through the newspaper.

Shane wasn’t against the idea, it was how he looked for apartments, jobs, and the _weather_ before technology slid its way into their society. Whoever invented the newspaper had been a genius.

(Hint: it wasn’t him. But he thought about it!)

“Keep looking,” with both of his hands, Shane carried both his steaming cup of coffee and Ryan’s to the living room table. He set them both down beside the opened newspaper ad. Half of the page had been highlighted, some pen marks with notes Ryan’s wrote on the margins. “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Those were your own words.”

“I know,” Ryan sneered at him, then sighed as he threw the pen in his hand on the coffee table. It rolled to the edge and Shane caught it before it fell to the floor. “I just wish I didn’t have to _deal_ with it.” 

“It is your life,” Shane shrugged, he placed the pen on the table and took a sip of his coffee. It burned his tongue and he winced, “if you choose not to work this year or the next, that’d be fine with me.”

“Oh yeah? How would I pay my bills?”

“You’ve got a goblin for a husband, I’ve got gold, baby.”

“You’re not my husband,” Ryan corrected, stretching his arms over his head and lifted his chin to Shane. “I can do this on my own.”

“I'm just messing with ya,” Shane smiled, his eyes squinted as he watched Ryan run a hand through his hair. He’d taken a shower a half hour ago, his hair damp and strands of his jet black hair fell over his eyes. He had his glasses on, like Shane, he didn't wear his contacts when it was just the both of them at home.

Shane loved this look the most, though, spending the night at Ryan’s meant that he had to hold his breath to fit into his tighter shirts.

“Whatever you decide to do,” Shane continued, he averted his eyes from his handsome boyfriend to the newspaper. “I’ll be right there by your side.”

“Aw,” Ryan cooed, “do you mean that?” He fluttered his eyelashes, his words filled with unneeded sarcasm.

He let Ryan have his fun, Shane could still read his thoughts like the back of his hand, and most of the ones he’s letting him see are about the way Shane looked in the morning.

(So, uh, they were both smitten.) 

To appease his boyfriend, Shane put his coffee mug down cautiously and stretched his arm to the back of the couch, wrapping Ryan in a secure hold and pressing him to his side. Ryan let out a surprised gasp, his forehead knocking onto Shane’s jaw hard.

“ _Jesus_ man,” Ryan winced, rubbed his forehead with a scowl, and pinched Shane’s side. “Could it kill you to be gentle with me?” 

“You’re the opposite of gentle,” Shane quipped, wincing himself over his pinched side. “I wanted to cuddle you. To help your trouble thoughts.”

“I’m _fine_!” Ryan insisted, but he scooted to the side of the couch and squeezed his dewy, cool self into Shane’s side. His hair fell on Shane’s shoulder, tickling his jawline when he hid his face into his neck.

Sometimes Ryan liked to sleep on him like that, Shane didn’t know if it was because of their height difference, but he’d also grown to love to fall asleep with his face stuffed in Ryan’s neck.

“I wasn’t talking about the job search, silly,” Shane moved his arm from the couch to around Ryan’s shoulders, he let his hand fall to the side, fingertips teasing Ryan’s bicep. “You’ve been thinking about me all morning, give yourself a break, huh?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ryan muttered from his neck, lips moist and pressed on Shane’s jugular. He separated himself for a brief moment to look into Shane’s eyes, “you're handsome but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Shane laughed when Ryan situated himself back to his body, “I didn’t hear it from you.”

They cuddled for a while, both of them on the couch. Ryan pressed to his side, breathing so softly that Shane thought him to be asleep. When Shane checked, Ryan _did_ have his eyes closed and _was_ sleeping. Feeling sorry for his now cold coffee, Shane accepted his fate and swung Ryan’s legs on his lap. 

They’ve sat like this back in a café in Canada, where Shane felt at ease and comfortable with another human being. Being with Ryan meant that he had nothing to worry about, the pain in his chest was near nonexistent when he was with him—and! He was a beacon of marital energy. Baby, he was like a radiator of love.

“Stop moving,” Ryan whined from his neck fifteen minutes later, breath hot. “I’m not sleeping, dumbass, I’m just resting.” 

“I was so sure you were sleeping,” Shane pouted but sat still on Ryan’s orders. “You woke up late, and you’re still craving to nap on me at noon? Have you no shame?”

“It’s not napping. You said you wanted to cuddle. You brought this on yourself, man,” Ryan sat upright, bringing his face up from Shane’s neck and yawned. Before Shane could comment, Ryan looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay.”

“We should have a picnic.”

Shane gave him a confused smile, “okay?”

“Have you ever had a picnic before?”

“Plenty,” Shane nodded his head, fingers stroking Ryan’s thigh before patting it and letting them fall back to his side. “When I lived in New York, In England, In Australia _—_ ”

“It’s just a picnic, Shane,” Ryan stood from the couch, gathering up the newspaper, pen, and highlighter. He pivoted to his bedroom to stash it away, “It’s not a competition.”

“I’m not saying that it is!” When Shane heard no reply from the bedroom, he smirked and walked towards the doorway.

Ryan was by his desk organizing his things skillfully, quite the opposite they both were—Ryan would often nag him about keeping his things in view or off the floor. Shane listened, Ryan liked to keep things in order. He supposed he had to, living in a cramped basement bedroom with nothing but a desk to stare at did that to you.

(His words.)

Shane frowned and snuck up behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his waist. Ryan didn't push him away, instead continued his mannerisms silently.

Shane rested his cheek on Ryan’s hair, he hated to think that Ryan had been alone all those years. His concern grew when he thought about the spirits and ghosts that followed him since he was a baby. 

It had been six months since they’ve first met, Ryan didn’t change in terms of personality. Yet, he was stronger than he deemed him to be.

Dating for a month now, Shane noted that Ryan adapted himself being an introverted loner, his time living with his surviving relative who hated him for _years_ taught him to sneak past her at night, he learned that he didn’t need friends to move on with his life. 

Ryan was alone for years, and it troubled Shane that he had been in Los Angeles at the same time, not exactly looking over his betrothed like he had promised. 

“Are you brooding on me? Or are you getting ready?”

Shane was thankful Ryan couldn’t see his frown, he nodded on his hair and let him go. When Ryan turned around, he ducked down and kissed him gently—kissing Ryan never got old either. He acquired the courage to initiate them— he liked to.

Ryan welcomed his kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. He smiled at him and patted his chest, “come on, I’ve got an old shirt of yours somewhere here.”

Shane let out a heavy breath at that, Ryan’s shirt ripping at the seams around his waist.

Afterwards, they head out for lunch, and because both of them had been lazy, Shane suggested the idea of a hot dog stand. Ryan doubted the thought of _hot dogs_ made from a stand that had been outside for _hours_ , nonetheless, decided to go with it.

They walked together, latched hands to the park they passed by everyday. Somehow, this park had brought them together in the wildest way. He’s seen Ryan there months ago, skinnier and lonely. Now, he was walking with Shane, happily recounting a story from the top of his head to him. 

Ryan still lived far away from Shane, the park had been a midpoint to their distance. If they had ever wanted to meet up from work or school, one of them would be waiting for the other at said park.

Shane lost count of the times he’ll mindlessly walk out during his lunch break, only to find Ryan sitting there on his phone. Needless to say, the park was their safe haven from all of their responsibilities. (Aside from their own homes.)

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you _not_ visiting a country,” Ryan’s voice shook him out of his thinking, he looked down at him, “you’ve told me about every single country. Is there one that you never been to?”

“Riveting question Ryan,” Shane mused, he squeezed Ryan’s hand and looked straight forward. Their pace gruesomely slow and away from the picnic table they decided to sit at. “I don’t think I… have been to Barbados—”

“Liar,” Ryan objected, “you told me about the time you stopped the sugar trade— _accidentally_ mind you—by showing them spices from India. I’m sure you can think of one.”

“Hmm,” Shane pretended to think, in the end, he missed several countries.

He didn’t think about it until now, since he _had_ been planning to travel the world for eternity. Now that his betrothed was next to him, he had limited time. He was running _out_ of time, and he hadn’t returned to his native land since he left one thousand years prior. 

Shane shuddered mentally, the thought of returning to the place he’d suffered the most—he knew that it was called Hungary now, or was it Poland?

Either way, he never visited Eastern Europe in his time roaming Earth. He wasn’t strong enough to remember garbled details of his time there, he didn't remember his mother’s face or his lover’s, much less the man who killed him.

“Ethiopia,” he lied again, he never told Ryan about his time there. “I haven’t been there.”

“Ethiopia?” Ryan raised his eyebrow, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him before turning away, “I guess… you never told me about that. Is there a reason why?” 

Like a weight lifted off Shane’s shoulders, he took in a shaky breath and shook his head. “Nah, I just never thought to. Don’t you want to eat now? I’ll go get us our hot dogs.” 

“Only if you swear to not poison mine,” Ryan said with a grin, sitting down on the bench.

Shane rolled his eyes and kissed his cheek, “wouldn’t do that to you, honey.”

He stalked away from the bench and strolled to the hot dog stand across the street. He had hot dogs here before, only to mistakenly eat _two_ extra-chilli and cheese hot dogs as a dare. He’s sure that Ryan wouldn’t get sick from it.

(He hoped not.)

“What would you be having, pal?”

“Just two hot dogs, uh—” Shane looked over his shoulder, Ryan sat patiently—a minuscule image far away—on his phone. Shane could see him now, tongue sticking out in concentration or confusion. “I don’t know what he wants, surprise us.” 

When the man running the stand nodded, Shane grabbed for his wallet, sticking out a few dollar bills when he felt a pair of eyes watching him. He ignored it, thinking that Ryan had grown bored looking at his phone and paid the guy. He had his own hot dog and Ryan’s in hand when a car drove past, stopping him from crossing the street and looked forward to see _three_ transparent spirits staring at him behind a tree.

“Fuck,” he grunted, walking across the street to get to Ryan, who was _still_ on his phone and behind three pairs of eyes. He saw one of them tense when he glared at them, the blonde one he thinks, he didn’t know their names other than—

“Jen,” he said discreetly, “it’s a pleasure to see you three in one place.”

The three of them stood still, he loomed over them effortlessly, even if they had zero knowledge of gravity and floated a few inches off the ground. Jen’s mouth fell open and she gaped at him like a fish. It was funny, she had Ryan’s mannerisms.

If Ryan had lived here for two decades, then so have they. They, among other ghosts or spirits or whatever phenomenon that Ryan called them, followed and gossiped about him. He knew that they took pictures of him, videos—like he was a cryptic!

Ryan told him about the picture the blonde spirit gave him, the lousiest photograph he’d ever seen of his. His thin face and tired eyes mocked him—he hated himself in the nineties, enough that he’d cut his hair the shortest length possible.

Tired of their shocked gazes, Shane sighed and waved his hand over their faces. “What are you three doing here?”

“We're—um—” 

“We’re here to check on Ryan!” Jen blurted over her transparent buddy, she moved her arms toward Ryan, the oblivious fool of a boyfriend on his phone with his hand holding his face up. “We’re his guardians after all!”

“We’re nothing like that,” another one objected, Daysha, Shane remembered her—the mellowest—who doesn't like appearing in front of Shane often. “We’re stalking you and him.”

“Yikes,” Shane inclined his head, “why?”

“We’re _Ryan’s_ guardians!”

“That means we have to look after him.” 

“Even from people like you.”

“I _just_ said we’re _not_ his guardian,” Daysha waved her arm, “don’t you both listen!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Shane complained dryly, all three of their faces turn to him and flushed warily.

His reputation as a deity (who _can_ turn ghosts to ashes) had relayed among them as if they were in middle school, looking at the richest, prettiest girl in the grade. Shane ignored their apprehensive expressions,  “I have to eat with Ryan, I suggest you three make yourselves scarce.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice—”

“Wait a minute, we have to speak with you!” 

“How generous of you. I’ll answer all your questions,” Shane replied sarcastically before stepping away from them.

Like a energy blob, Jen wafted in front of him, blocking his view of Ryan with her pellucid self. He groaned, both in annoyance of being bothered by nonexistent figures and the fact that Ryan is _this_ oblivious to his surroundings. 

“He’s texting his friends, he wouldn’t mind you gone for a few minutes.” 

“I _would_ though,” Shane pointed out, and continued to make his way to Ryan. Despite his hatred towards ghosts or what not, he respected their boundaries when it comes to walking _through_ them. But the second he tried to, Jen’s friend, the blonde girl stepped beside him.

“It’d be quick.”

“My patience is running low, I’ll only talk to Jen and you’d have to talk fast because—”

“What do you plan to do with Ryan?” 

“What—”

“Listen,” Jen bit her lip, she turned her head to her friend, “Maycie, you should go with Daysha.” 

“But—”

Jen whirled around, her body twisting unusually as she took hold of her friend’s hands.

Amazing, Shane stilled, he’d never… he’d never seen a ghost touch another object or _person_ like that, much less that it had been her friend. Sure, Ryan had told him about Jen’s ability to reach out for objects now, holding them and throwing them and she had gotten _stronger_ in the last few months. 

But this was different. 

Jen spoke to her friend quietly before she turned to Shane, she smiled at him until Maycie floated away. “I had waited years for him to find you.”

“I’m aware. You also told him about me.”

Jen was shorter than he was, a woman that didn’t reach his shoulders even if she wore heels. Though, she stood her ground (floated) and raised her chin to lock eyes with him.

In all his years, Jen had been afraid of him the most, disappearing when she had been caught and running away from Ryan’s side when he visited him, but—she was challenging him. Only, he didn't find it humorous.

“I did,” Jen remarked, “I told him because I thought it would be good for him.”

“What changed now? Am I not subpar in the boyfriend scale? Have you been spying on me—”

“I realized something that I did not see before,” she cut him off, although she blocked Shane’s sight of Ryan, he knew that she longed to look at him. “I was blind by your infatuation for him but I—” she paused, and shuddered at him— Ryan had noticed her from where he sat. 

To confirm this, Shane extended his head and saw as Ryan blinked at both ghost and deity quizzically. He made no move to stand however, and Shane lifted his free hand to gesture at him to stay where he was. “Pretend you're joking with me, smile if you have to.”

Shane grinned at her, forcing his lips to curl as Ryan remained where he sat. “Make it quick.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“I can assure you that you don’t need to worry. I’m not one to rush my relationships, especially with people that I love.”

“I know, that’s why you have to marry him.” 

“Even if I did,” Shane’s smile grew wider, he looked at Ryan from the corner of his eyes to make sure he hadn’t moved from his seat. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“I care for Ryan,” Jen asserted, her own smile had disappeared as she spoke.

Eyebrows furrowed, and her eye twitched with unnecessary hatred—wherever this sudden confidence strike of hers came from, it was connected to her confronting him where Ryan sat a few feet away. Otherwise, she wouldn't dare—

“I care for him and you’ll hurt him because I don’t trust deities.” 

“I don’t mind ghosts, but those who are turning human? Tell me spirit, how did you become a poltergeist?”

“I don’t know,” Jen did not hesitate, her smile turned into a frown, “don’t change the subject, you have to marry Ryan—”

“Listen,” Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, then smiled. “Don’t force yourself into my relationship, what I do and who I love isn’t your concern.”

Jen’s lips pursed, she narrowed her eyes in thought before she nodded, defeated.

“It isn’t. Your relationship with a human wouldn’t last, goblin. What would you do then when Ryan is old and feeble? Yet, you stay at a permanent twenty-seven? You have limited time with him, today or tomorrow or seventy years from now, he will die and you’ll continue to live. The least you can do is make him happy.” 

Shane opened his mouth, his lips parched and he paled at Jen’s words. She’s right.

Ryan’s life was short compared to his, even if he was destined to die by Ryan’s hand. He had no power to tell the future, Ryan wasn’t immortal—he _can_ die and then Shane would have to live heartbroken with his curse.

_It is God’s will_.

His eyebrows knitted and he closed his eyes, he forced himself to give Jen a taunting grin as if she had teased him with a joke to fool Ryan’s eyes from his place at the bench. Why is she right?

“You’re right. I have to think about this. Don’t mention any of this to him, if you care for him you’ll make sure he doesn’t know _anything_.”  
  
“I’ll remain by his side, to make sure he’s happy forever. I’ll act naive and run away from you if I have to. I don’t know a thing,” Jen lifted her hand and closed her lips, twisting her fingers on the edge of her mouth before floating away from him. 

As Jen left, Shane was left to stare at Ryan from across the park. Even for a human, Ryan was smart and he knew better than to try and fool him with smiles and teasing laughter. Yet, he was happy to see Ryan’s calm expression, waiting patiently for his now—cold hot dog and Shane’s stories.

It might be a metaphor for something, Ryan was happy knowing absolutely nothing about his fate or his future. He didn’t meddle with the afterlife like Shane had and he wanted to keep them like that.

But, it wasn’t right to lie to him. There will be a day where Ryan would try to pull out the sword or ask about if in their time together, and then what would Shane do? What would he do if Ryan were to remove it in his sleep? Or when he’s too invested in his pain to argue?

Fuck, Jen, why are you right?

For Ryan’s sake, he would tell him the truth and let him die. That’s the only way Shane could think of to keep Ryan safe and happy. His beloved is not immortal, their time is limited, and Ryan is better off without him.

“Hey,” Ryan greeted him when he sat down next to him, under the blossomed tree of springtime. Pedals fell from above on Ryan’s clothes and on the bench. “I wondered what took you so long, did Jen bother you?”

“Y—yes,” Shane cleared his throat, making sure his voice did not break under pressure. He set down both hot dogs in front of Ryan, “I lost my appetite trying to get rid of her, eat both of them and I’ll tell you a story.”

“What would it be about?” Ryan smiled, removing the paper from the hot dog and taking a bite.

Shane bit his lip, fighting both his tears from welling up and his happiness when Ryan swore when ketchup stained his shirt. Grabbing a napkin, Shane materizaled a bottle of water and tried to clean his stain as best as he could. 

“I hope you paid for that,” Ryan said when he pulled away, “we can’t be both accidental thieves.”

“I did,” Shane pressed a lingering kiss on Ryan’s cheek, “I wouldn’t steal.” 

“Liar.”

“I don’t lie. I’d never lie to you,” Shane grew quiet as he watched Ryan eat both his hot dog and his own, munching away by Shane’s side, unaware of the chaos inside Shane's head.

_I’d never lie to you._

 

* * *

 

Ryan spent the night at his place after. Because Shane had claimed to be in love with Ryan (mentally, of course), he invited him to _his_ own house to hang out. Not only that, Shane had decided to say the inevitable and confess the reality of his curse.

The thing was, he didn’t know how Ryan would react.

Ryan was a formidable man, the bravest human he’d ever encountered.

(Poor guy would jump sky high at the sight of a spider but at a ghost? A fake phenomenon made of atoms? He’ll fight them if he could.)

Yet, this was a different, this endangered Shane’s life and Ryan… Ryan didn’t deserve the hurt that come along with it.

Breaking up with him hadn’t been an option, though, if Ryan wished to never see him again, Shane would respect his wishes and live through his sentence. He deserved it, it was _his_ sins that he’s being charged for. Ryan shouldn’t be involved with a deity in the first place. 

It was a miracle that the 'immortality' topic never crossed them before. Like an unspoken rule to keep it out of each other’s minds and live through the now as boyfriends. If that’s what Ryan is doing, Shane would respect that, too.

Shane woke up in his bedroom alone, groggy and shaken as he realized that the sun was out—and from the sound of the running water across from his room, Ryan woke up before him.

For a moment, Shane let himself smile, Ryan isn't a morning person before unless it was for class. Once they separate, Shane hoped that the person who was to marry Ryan let him sleep in for as long as he needed to. 

It wasn’t going to be him.

With a sigh, Shane pulled off his covers from his body and shivered from the coldness of the room. He sat up at the edge, suddenly afraid of what's to come.

He had to do it. There were countless opportunities to tell him and every one—every _single_ one—he had missed and let it pass with time. Their future was unrealistic, they didn’t _have_ one together.

He had to tell him.

“Hey! You’re awake!”

Startled, Shane jumped from the edge of the bed to the sight of his boyfriend. Wet black hair glued to his forehead as he wrapped a towel over his neck, he wore the jeans from last night, but chose to walk around Shane’s room shirtless.

Ryan raised his eyebrow at him and routinely pivoted to his closet, opening it up with his arms, his back muscles flexed in front of Shane and he had to swallow down the thought of Ryan sleeping next to him, shirtless.

(It happened once, Shane couldn’t sleep but he counted the specks of freckles on Ryan’s back.)

“Mind if I borrow a shirt?” Ryan’s question left Shane appalled, he had worn Ryan’s shirts before but Ryan never asked— “Are you okay? Are you still sleepy?” 

Shane's head swayed steadily, Ryan had already taken this chance to pick his outfit from Shane’s armoire, a red checkered shirt.

“I have to tell you something,” he blurted out, watching as Ryan moved cautiously through his bedroom, buttoning up Shane’s shirt as he went.

“Is it important enough for me to sit?” Ryan asked, he picked up his bookbag from the nightstand, “or—”

“It’s— it’s fine,” Shane interrupted, he felt restless as he looked at Ryan, he knew that he was looking for his personal things.

The last few months, Ryan took a liking to Shane’s bedroom the most, keeping his things at the foot of his bed, taking things out and shoving things back in if he needed to. Shane let him do it, he was his boyfriend—

“Great, have you seen my textbook?” Ryan bent down to his knees, looking under his bed cluelessly.

The sleeves on the button down covered his fingers, and Shane was tempted to fix them for him. “The one with the graph on the cover? Ah! Here it is—okay, bud, what do you have to tell me?”

Ryan shoved his textbook into his bag, organizing his things for class, smelling of Shane’s soap and _in_ one of Shane’s shirts, tucked in his jeans and sleeves up to his elbow. He looked—he looked like he belonged there, like he had woken up from Shane’s bed, sleeping lullingly by his side all night and waking up only to kiss him goodbye for the day. 

Shane didn’t want that to end. Call him selfish, _he was selfish_.

For a deity living years and _years_ under the fear of losing people he loved, he didn’t hesitate to say: “I like you.” 

Ryan’s eyes rounded and he dragged his feet over to Shane, who was the opposite of clean and handsome for a morning. Nonetheless, Ryan kissed the top of his chaotic hair before hugging Shane to him. They had to deal with a difference in height, sitting down, Shane would enjoy his ear pressed to his boyfriend’s chest.

“Me too,” Ryan grinned, letting him go. “Have a great day at work, okay? Don’t piss people off?”

"I won't."

"Promise?"

“I promise I won’t piss anybody off today,” Shane specified, raising his head to look at him. “What woke you up?”

“You’re old, I’m sure that you’ve heard of an alarm.”

“Take it easy,” Shane laughed, voice hoarse from sleep. “You like me?”

“Don’t I have to like you to date you?” 

“Is that the only reason you are?”

“No…” Ryan rolled his eyes, “I’ve been working out too,” he flexed his arm to show off what muscle he’d gained throughout the week.

That gym membership was surely paying off— “I was thinking. If the sword is transparent _sometimes,_  could you imagine how heavy it would be when it's not? I couldn’t just pull it out blindly, I would lift the curse and avoid injury!”

Shane gritted his teeth, he hid his face from Ryan and forced a smile on his face. “I really like you.”

“I know,” Ryan smuggly replied. He took hold of Shane’s arm and lifted him from the bed, wrapping his arms around his hips and kissing him breathless.

Ryan’s lips had always been fuller, colder and moist than Shane’s—at first they both didn’t know _how_ to kiss but once Ryan had learned (better than Shane himself) he _kissed_ and he performed well.

Knowing that Shane would spend hours kissing him, he pulled him away and spoke, hovering his mouth to his. “Don’t be late." 

“Oh _shit_. You’re right,” Ryan pecked his lips, unconcerned of morning breath and Shane’s crippling anxiety before running back for his bag.

“Bye!” Ryan waved at him and walked out of the bedroom, it wasn’t a minute after Shane heard the sound of the front door closing behind him.

He fixed himself when Ryan left, showering and dressed in his work uniform. Combing his hair to the side, gelling it the way that Ryan claimed he liked it and looked at himself in a full-body mirror. He shaved his stubble, though Ryan hadn’t shaved his own, the tickling of his stubble on Shane’s skin made up for it. He liked it.

He really liked it. 

With a yell, Shane picked up the lamp on the bedside table, throwing it across the room and shattering to hundreds of pieces. Without another second thought, he tore the armoire down, watching ts contents fall to his floor, breaking the drawer doors and sprawled on the ground.

Shane tightened the grip on his watch, the one that Ryan bought for him and clasped it around his wrist. He clipped it and stepped over his broken wardrobe, before he walked out of the door— he flipped over his desk, most of his paperwork crumbled by the force or flew into the air, the desk lamp hung from the side of the flipped desk, the wire connected to the extension cord. 

He left his room, stomping his way to the stairs where he sat on the first step, pressing his palms on his bloodshot eyes.

He won’t cry. He won’t. He can’t.

Clearly, all Shane was to do was to satisfy Ryan’s desires and the last thing Ryan needed was a rainy day.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god,” he snickered, “you’re a living stereotype.”

Ryan rolled his eyes at his friend, watching as his taller form curled into the couch, surrounded by papers and opened pages from his textbook. Brent blinked at him numbly, trying to regain his conscious _and_ figure out where he was when he laughed along, too.

“Right,” he coughed out, jolting upright and scattering his notes all over the library floor. “I passed out.” 

“It's ten in the morning,” Ryan snickered, “you spent the night here.”

“We’ve all done it before. It’s finals week.”

Finals week it is.

Brent ran his hand through his rugged face, he’s still out of it by the time he bent down to pick up the papers that fell from his body. Ryan—knowing how it felt to fall asleep at the library—helped him, overlapping his notes and handing them to him. Usually, the library doesn’t permit students to stay after six, but thankfully, due to the gruesome exams during the end of the semester, they keep their doors wide open. 

What they didn’t take account for was the fact that students _don’t_ study, but sleep off their stress and procrastinate until the day of. That’s why Ryan had walked inside the cursed building with Jen on tow, he spotted students strewn on top of each other, drooling onto their shoulders and mutually agreeing to not disturb the other.

It was pretty great.

Ryan finished his finals a day earlier than scheduled and cheerfully walked into the library for the last time to hand in his card _and_ his overpriced rented textbooks. He felt alright for the most part, the butterflies in his stomach never left him since the last exam at eight, but he knew that he passed.

“What are you doing here, bachelor's degree? Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“I have work,” Ryan grieved, then lifted his library card to Brent’s swollen, scarlet face, “I came to turn this in before I left forever.”

Brent clicked his tongue, “gonna miss ya pal. The offer still on the table though, anytime you or the big statue want to visit.”

“Thanks, but Shane and I aren’t—” Ryan paused, his forehead creased as he tried to come up with the right words. “He and I were thinking about Florida for the summer. Stay in touch man, I would like to hear all about it.”

“Don’t worry, I have you on speed dial,” Brent smiled, leaning forward to Ryan and ruffed his hair, “see you tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed and faked a smile, “see you tomorrow,” he called to Brent as he made his way out of the library, limping and carrying the enormous stacks of papers in his arms. 

“You’re not going to Florida for the summer,” a new voice chimed in, “Shane hasn’t even spoken to you in two weeks.” 

“I know that,” Ryan answered Jen flatly, rolling his eyes when one of his (former) classmates looked up from her arms, narrowing her eyes uncannily at him. It didn’t matter, he was out of there in ten minutes tops. After sending his card to the gutter, Ryan walked out from his haven for the last time, lots of memories there. 

All the times he hid in the bookshelves to sleep or when he studied until they forced him to leave. Or in November—when he summoned Shane for the third time—worked on pure adrenaline from trespassing. He loved the place, and he was going to miss it.

Jen? Not so much. 

“Will you talk to me about it now?” She pleaded, trying to match his steady pace out of the building, “you have to speak to me eventually.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he shrugged, “what you did was bad enough. Shane won’t even acknowledge me.”

“Why are you sure that I did something?” Jen exclaimed, her voice booming around campus and towards Ryan’s eardrums. “I only told him to marry you!”

“You didn’t need to,” Ryan calmly kept his pace, he tried to avoid other students as he walked out, though it didn’t matter—most of them had their heads ducked or were sleep deprived beyond compare. “You didn’t need to tell him to marry me.”

“It’s what you need to—” 

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything, Jen,” Ryan clenched his teeth and stilled, he turned to face her.

Her face had brightened up now, spots of fair skin disappeared, revealing darker skin underneath. Everything that screamed _ghost_ didn’t apply to her anymore, she almost looked as real as he was. “Please, whatever you told him, tell _me_. I can’t—I can’t even hold a conversation with him.” 

Jen nibbled on her bottom lip, lowered her head in a shame before sighing. “You should see him after work. At _his_ house—”

“Will you tell me what’s going on? I hate being the last to know when shit like this happens.”

“You’re a human.”

Ryan looked heavenward, “I am. You’re a ghost, he’s a deity. This isn’t new.”

Jen sighed before regret clouded her features, “It isn’t my secret to tell.”

Ryan had no solid reply, instead, he pressed his lips together and turned to walk out of campus. He didn’t mind if Jen followed him or not, if she had a brain along with her _now_ human physique, she wouldn’t.

It wasn’t like Ryan hated her, he liked her and she was one of his best friends, but if she hadn’t gotten in Shane’s head, things would be different now. 

Two weeks ago Shane called him from work, canceling a date for the first time. Ryan didn't care at the time. Both were busy, and agreed to reschedule for some other time.

Except it kept happening, Ryan woke up to texts from Shane that he was out of town, cancel this, cancel that, can’t call you today, can’t do this, _no we can’t talk now, maybe later_ , and it began to irritate Ryan.

For his first relationship, Ryan wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be annoyed by Shane canceling on him every time, especially since it’s been happening for two weeks going on three. It wasn’t the worst thing in his life up until recently, when Steven had called _him_ asking if Shane was around because nobody at work had seen him—not even when he had told Ryan that he was out of town on a business trip.

That was the last straw, the _other_ last straw was yesterday night’s thunderstorm. 

Was he in pain? Was something bothering him? Ryan didn’t know.

He had no answers as to why anything was happening. It must have something to do with Jen two weeks prior at their picnic date. Where Shane brushed it off as Jen teasing him when it looked like they both were arguing. Jen told him that she urgedShane to marry him, that’s all, but Ryan wasn’t stupid, he knew there was more to it.

More to it than he realized.

He thought about it all through his shift, whatever Jen had told Shane and vice versa. However, what bugged him the most was Shane’s sudden disappearance afterwards.

Did the whole _marriage_ under a curse thing bother Shane that badly? He must have not wanted Ryan as his betrothed, much less a human who knew little to nothing about defending himself when he was mugged or to _not_ touch a grim reaper. 

_He must think you’re an idiot._

So what Ryan was one? Shane didn’t cross off that list either. Except, he _was_ smart and everything that Ryan liked, he must have finally come to his senses.

“Oh, my god, just go in,” Ryan leaped, rattled by the voice from behind him. They enclosed him in frigid air and Ryan shivered through his bones as Jen groaned. “He’s your boyfriend, not a stranger.” 

“That’s—” Ryan tightened the grip on the keys to Shane’s house, “that’s literally the first time you’ve called him my boyfriend. What happened to husband?”

He turned his head when Jen didn’t reply, she bit her bottom lip as if to refrain from saying something _wrong_. If Ryan had the energy, he’ll push her to tell him what was bothering her, but since everyone had suddenly turned on him, he decided that it wasn’t his business.

“Right,” he took in a deep breath and unlocked the front door. “I’m going in, you can—” He heard the faint sound of wind, hitting the back of his neck ungracefully and tremendously _freezing_  him on the spot. He shrugged and opened the door, swinging it open until it hit the wall of Shane’s house. 

“I’m home—” Ryan shut his mouth, he blinked at the tension he felt. Desolation and gloomy atmosphere, looming over him and bringing down his mood with every step. He cautiously closed, locked the door and silently looked for his boyfriend.

The house was dimly lit, the television off, and the only visible light inside the house came from a set of candles near the dining room. They had been set in a circle, different sizes scattered around the wooden floor, and in the center laid a man, curled into themselves. Once Ryan saw the familiar dark brown-ish set of hair, he knew that it was Shane.

Ryan took one long look at him and then behind him towards the kitchen. The kitchen was equally as dark, there was no doubt that Shane was left here alone to his own thoughts.

“Shane?”

No reply, Shane continued to lay there, still. For a moment, Ryan began to panic, he was horrified at the thought of his boyfriend hurt, injured _by himself_ for god knows how long.

He paced forward to him so Ryan could get a better look at him, Shane’s sword had materialized, obscure and glowing the faintest cerulean blue—different from what Ryan had seen before.

“Shane? A—Are you okay?” He stuttered, and Shane’s head stirred, the sword brightened in color. “Groan if you’re in pain.” 

Ryan wasn’t sure if that would be effective, but Shane let out a whimper, coiled into his body further. He took hold of his knees with one arm and the other one laid under his head, working as a pillow.

“Okay, okay, um,” Ryan, unsure what to do, placed his backpack on the side of the couch and took off his coat. “Stay there, don’t move.” 

He could almost hear Shane’s snarky remark, telling him that he couldn’t even if he _tried_. He ignored it, ran upstairs and opened the first bedroom to the right.

Shane’s mansion had five spare rooms for no particular reason, Ryan had slept in all of them, testing out each bed because he was _that_ adventurous. With no time to waste, Ryan grabbed a pillow and a blanket, jogged downstairs and found himself standing before Shane.

“Stay still,” he asserted, crouching down to see him. Shane’s eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttered against his crimson cheeks. His eyebrows were knitted, scrunched in what Ryan could understand to be pain. “I’m going to move your arm, I’m sorry in advance.” 

Shane’s hand moved then, his fingers lifted over to Ryan but fell to the floor again. Ryan took that as a sign to touch him, so he met him halfway and held his hand. He shifted Shane’s arm gently, replacing it with a pillow on his head, his hair splayed over it.

“Are you cold?” Ryan asked, yet, he had let go of Shane’s hand and draped the blanket around Shane’s body, blocking Ryan’s view of the sword. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

Shane’s hand moved again, fingers lifted like a spider’s, crawling to Ryan’s knee and tapping it with his index finger. He heard Shane mumble incoherent words from the pillow, if Ryan hadn’t been listening closely, he would have missed the obvious _go sleep upstairs_ from him.

“I’m not leaving you here,” Ryan retorted sympathetically, Shane’s index finger tapped his knee as to urgently get rid of him— _go sleep upstairs, you’re tired from your exam_. 

Weakened, Shane’s fingers stopped and he balled his fist, he squeezed his own hand until his knuckles grew white. Ryan could only do so much, he laid his own hand on top of Shane’s fist, caressing his knuckles with his thumb and softly speaking to him. Shane let out another whimper, sobbing into the pillow as he overcame the pain from his chest. 

“I’m going to stay, I'm right here,” Ryan consoled after he stopped talking, lying down next to Shane on the cool floor. Ryan tried to inadvertently avoid the candles as best as he could. He couldn’t extinguish them, Shane wouldn’t have the energy to teleport. “You said it yourself, marital energy and all that?” 

Ryan saw Shane’s mouth twitch, growing into a soft smile as his eyes fluttered open. They were half-lidded but he looked straight into Ryan’s own, gleamed with tears from the pain. “Yes,” Shane agonized, “it is helping.” 

“I’m sure it is,” Ryan laughed _finally_ at ease, his other hand rested on his own head. He touched Shane as much as he could and to draw him into slumber, Ryan moved his hand to his scalp. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

“How did it go? Your test,” Shane asked. Ryan played with the strands on his head, hiding his fingers in between them. He watched as Shane's eyes drooped before answering.

“It was fine,” he smiled, letting his hand travel to Shane’s nape, “I think I did pretty good.” 

“Hm, tell me all about it,” Shane cajoled, slurry words into the pillow and tapped his fingers on Ryan's arm. He opened his eyes for a split second, it stopped Ryan’s heart from beating with all the love that he expressed with nothing but his eyes. “In detail. Just talk to me.” 

“I forgot marital energy was auditory, too.”

Ryan proudly gave himself a pat on the back when Shane chuckled, then began to tell him everything that had happened today. From leaving the house, meeting up with Brent before he left, the dragged-on, boring two hour final exam, to him thinking about Shane at work and all the way to his house.

He made sure to leave out the details of his doubt of Shane dating him for the hell of it, and by the end Shane had drowsily pulled him closer to him. Shane teased him before falling asleep, laughing about _not_ being able to keep him out of his mind for a day.

“You’re right,” Ryan murmured when Shane began to snore, sleeping on the floor of his dining room. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never good,” Ryan’s lips twitched, he narrowed his eyes at Shane before bending down to retrieve a clean washcloth. “Last time you had an idea, I ended up in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.”

“With good reason,” Shane defended himself, sitting down on the stool in front of Ryan as he worked. “How do you feel about the Gulf Of Mexico?” 

Ryan gave him a scolding glare before turning away to serve his customers. Deep inside, Shane knew not to press the fact that he almost drowned them both months ago, yet, he couldn’t let it go. Miami was something that he held close to his heart and damn him for not letting it happen again.

(A vacation—not drowning.)

A few days after Ryan’s graduation, Shane had been diagnosed with exhaustion and was bedridden for the entirety of the week by Doctor Ryan. Though, he attended Ryan’s commencement with a smile and shouted over any other parent in the bleachers the second Ryan Bergara’s name was called on the stage.

Ryan was mortified when his boyfriend singled him out, though his smile never faltered throughout the day. Not even when Shane offered to stay with him for the night.

They talked, Ryan told him that he was happy, that even if his mother wasn’t there to see him walk the stage a third time, Shane was, his cousins were, Kelsey was there, Steven was dragged along, too.

They all sat there and cheered for him, supported him as he finished this chapter in his life. It was the first time Shane saw Ryan cry since he and Steven bought him vanilla ice cream cake. It was also the first time that Shane kissed him breathless, laid him down on his bed with him and held him until his sobs subsided.

It broke his heart to witness what would be Ryan’s downfall—it _hurt_  knowing that Shane was planning to die in a weeks time.

To know that Ryan would probably cry like that—in Steven’s arms after he was gone—it almost made Shane stand up and leave, erase Ryan's memories of him and  disappear for the rest of his life instead of punishing his lover with heartbreak.

“Mexico,” Shane blurted out, picking at his fingertips when Ryan returned with empty glasses. “Let’s go to Mexico.”

“I'd love to visit Mexico,” Ryan beamed over the clinking of glasses, “do you think we could find anything on witchcraft there?”

So... he _is_ a witch. “Why do you want to know that?”

“My mom had a friend who used to know about it,” Ryan explained as he worked, Shane was memorized at the way he moved, stacking new glasses on the counter and filling them with beer or coke—the way his hands dumped filthy dishes on the sink, and mentally noted to wash them later.

“She's Mexican; she taught me some things when I was little, I might even know some Spanish.”

“Oh?” Shane raised his eyebrow, “I knew there was a reason why you spoke to me in Spanish _once_.” He stood up from his stool and blocked Ryan’s path, stalled him from his helping customers. “Do you want to practice in the art of brujería, Bergara?”

“I—don't know what you just said to me,” Ryan chuckled and pinched Shane’s side playfully to move him, he opened his mouth when Shane smirked at him but was interrupted by Kelsey, who also pinched Shane’s waist.

“Move it along, sweetheart,” she teased, she held her tray over Shane’s head (or tried to) and walked passed them. “Stop bothering my employees, I don’t care if you’re—”

“Hey, Kelsey!” Ryan cut her off hastily, “table three is asking for you, you should tend them and I’ll be right behind you.”

Kelsey raised her head to look behind Ryan, her eyes twinkled with delight and left their side. Ryan turned to Shane with a sigh of relief, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? You should be heading home and  _resting_ , big guy.”

“I’ll be bored for the rest of the evening.”

“Then look for hotels in Mexico while you’re at it,” Ryan slightly pushed him towards the exit, “we need a place to stay while we’re there, right?”

“We don’t have that kind of money,” Shane quipped, “I was thinking to teleport back and forth for a weekend.”

“And threaten my health with that?”

Right, Ryan hated teleportation as much as any human should; it left him light-headed and drowsy for ten minutes then he dry heaved for another ten minutes before cursing Shane for _another_ ten minutes.

It was great, until Ryan began blanched and twitched for longer periods of time. “What kind of goblin are you? Don’t you have gold?” 

“Ryan,” Shane proclaimed, “that’s not nice to say, I’m on the poverty scale as a deity.”

“You’re literally the worst boyfriend I ever had,” Ryan continued to push him, “it’s a great idea to go to Mexico so I can become a witch and lift your curse, then curse you myself.”

Shane’s smile faded, glad that his back was turned away from Ryan, he nodded and let his boyfriend push him out of Tasty. “I’ll start looking, Mexico it is. It can be your graduation present.”

“You talking to me is enough,” Ryan brightened, for a moment, he looked behind his shoulder at Kelsey when she barked at him to close the door because— _he’s letting the bugs inside!_ “We should talk later, I’ll call you?”

“Yeah,” Shane looked forward to that. “I’ll let you know about Mexico, tell me when you’re free and we could—we could go anytime you want.”

He leaned forward, taking Ryan’s face in his hands and kissed his lips briefly before pulling away. “See you later, baby.” 

To avoid the topic of his bounden death was an understatement, but Shane knew that he was wrong in doing so. In the days that followed, Ryan and himself would plan to leave for Mexico on a Friday and return on Monday, where Shane planned to take him back home and spill the truth about himself.

In the end, Shane wasn’t sure as to why he wanted to torture himself like this. Throughout the entire vacation, he held on the assumption that it was the right thing to do—to see Ryan happy one last time in a location that he knew nothing about. Ryan ate, danced, laughed and talked more there than Shane had ever seen him in any other city they went. 

(“It’s because I’m a graduated man now,” he said, sitting next to him, toes deep into the sand and closed his eyes when the sun hit him directly in the face. “And I had one too many beers.”)

Shane didn't bring up the day before his graduation ceremony—where he lay on the ground in misery—and woke up in the middle of the night with Ryan snoozing by his side. Nor did he mention lying to him—the thunderstorm before that.

He kept it bottled inside because he didn't want Ryan to be upset. This vacation wasn’t the place for it, not even when Ryan tried to mention it himself, it just… wasn’t something that Shane was prepared to face until Monday night.

For the time being, he tried to focus on Ryan for the weekend. It worked, for the most part. He took him to a physic, one that Ryan sat down and tried to overcome the language barrier between them.

Shane understood her words, (why wouldn’t he?) but decided to stay out of the ‘whole you’ll live a long life if you don’t interfere with the dead’ talk.

(“What does she know?” Shane sneered when they walked out together, Ryan holding a new trinket that he could use against any demon to protect him. “Demons aren’t real.”

“You’re literally a deity with supernatural powers.”)

“Who taught you Spanish?” Shane asked at the hotel later, it was their last night there before they had to check out in the morning. They lounged together in bed, Ryan casually holding his trinket in hand as he moved closer to Shane. 

“I don't _speak_ it, I can understand a little because of my mom,” he answered, then sighed, “it wasn’t… her. It’s—I don't know—I remember there was a friend of hers that taught her.” 

“Was this friend the witch?” Shane inquired, poking at the trinket in his hand.

Ryan shook his head, “no, it was someone else. I don’t remember— I don’t remember her at all but she spoke fluently. Uh, my mom said that she took care of her when she was pregnant with me.”

“What happened to her?”

Ryan shrugged, “I don’t know. She must have run off when she died.”

He sighed again and set the trinket on the bedside table, looking tired than before. He yawned and adjusted himself on top of the hotel sheets. They’d stumbled into the room together an hour ago, turning on the television and watching the Weather religiously. Not bothering to cover himself, Shane turned to face Ryan on the bed.

“Strange. It’s like I know little about you when you know so much about me.”

In the dim light of their hotel room, Ryan flashed him a smile. The television on the lowest volume, illuminating their faces in the dark. “There’s nothing of me to tell. Have I ever told you that I see ghosts?” 

“Once or twice.”

“There’s little meaning in everything that happened in my life,” Ryan shrugged, unbothered by the fact that he just called himself _dull_. Shane won’t stand by this and bore his eyes into him until he cracked.

When Ryan showed no sign of taking back what he said, “tell me about the scarf.”

“The scarf?” 

“The red one,” Shane pointed to Ryan’s bag with his chin. “You don’t wear it when it’s hot but you carry it around. Is there a reason why?”

Ryan blinked at him for a moment, he looked unsure as to why Shane had asked this of him and Shane himself was about to apologize for being nosy before he spoke in their silence.

“My mom gave it to me for my ninth birthday. Um—she… I don’t know exactly what happened so I couldn’t tell you the truth.” Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, “she died sometime in the day. I never knew how or _why._  I just knew that she died before the day ended.” 

Shane held his breath as Ryan talked to him, his words left him vulnerable in the hands of his boyfriend.

“I never knew but as I grew older, I came to the conclusion that she spent the day knitting the scarf. It’s to keep you warm, she said, to protect me from the rain. She… she wanted to make sure I was okay even when she was gone."

“I carry it with me for the reason that she’ll be with me. For—the reason that maybe someday she’ll come to me as a ghost, haunting me for the rest of my life. To see her one day, Shane, is all I asked for.” 

Ryan swallowed as Shane froze, he didn’t speak anymore and let himself sink into the hotel’s pillows. There wasn’t any way his mother would visit him, she must have overstayed her welcome in limbo—she had to forget about him and move on. To put it bluntly, there was the possibility that Ryan’s mother didn’t know her son existed.

“I’m sorry,” Shane murmured to him, not because of her forgetting her own son and leaving him but for his intrusion to resurrect her for the sake of her child—the child that grown into a man—the man he loved.

“What are you sorry for?” Ryan sniffled and plastered a smile on his face, "somebody saved her life and my own. Her life was short but she always told me to live to the fullest.”

“I know that she’s proud of who you become,” Shane’s head throbbed, though his mouth betrayed him as he continued to lie to Ryan. “I know that she’s watching you and smiling at the man she raised.”

Ryan didn’t widen his smile but his eyes welled up at his words. Drawing closer, Ryan breathed into Shane’s hair, holding himself without touching him. “I know that too. She accepted you as my boyfriend, why else would you still be here with me?”

Shane huffed, Ryan’s mother would have hated him.

A deity who lived thousands of years in sin, cursed by the creator of the universe and stuck in a loop where he’ll spend the rest of time looking for Ryan. She wouldn’t sent her RSVP to their wedding, she would have taken her son and ran in the opposite direction. 

"I don’t think I have anything else to tell you,” Ryan looked down at Shane, “I think I’ve told you everything.” 

Relieved at the topic change, Shane gawked, “that’s not true is it? There has to be more to you, I’ll find out for myself even if you don’t tell me.”

“You’d find a whole lot of nothing,” Ryan chuckled meekly, “there is one last thing I faintly remember.”

“What? Did you have a diary that you wrote in?”

“The lady from before, she wore a red suit. It was the only thing I remember as a child apart from my mother’s death— she… was so brightly red. It was strange,” Ryan yawned, “can’t say she was nice either. But even I don’t remember.”

“It seems like we both have terrible recollections of the past,” Shane taunted but Ryan had already fallen asleep.

“It’d be useful in the future, I guess,” With that, in the warm, humid hotel room, Shane held Ryan in his arms for what he knew to be the last time.

 

* * *

 

At noon, they returned to Los Angeles in record time. Walking through the door of Shane’s house, Steven greeted them both with a smile and a bottle of champagne in hand. Shane teased him at first, asking where he’d stole it from but bit down his words when he remembered asking Steven to buy it for him—his favorite bottle, _Veuve_.

The woman who created it—back in the 1700s—had become a widow, stubborn and one of the smartest mentors Shane ever had. Sorry Galileo, but he wanted to go out with a bang, and frankly, Veuve did the job for him.

Ryan didn’t question him about the sudden interest in champagne after consuming gallons of alcohol in Mexico, he embraced it as something his boyfriend would randomly do, because he’s _old_ and forgetful.

“Right,” Shane chuckled, chugging the last of the champagne straight from the source, gripping the neck of the bottle and swinging it down on the kitchen counter with a wince. “I have something to show you.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to sleep now?” Ryan raised his eyebrow, more so at the empty bottle, “it’s been five minutes.”

“No, no,” Shane shook his head and hiccuped then took Ryan’s hand in his and led the way to his bedroom. “You gotta—you gotta see this I have to show you this.”

“Alright,” Ryan drawled behind him, stumbling into furniture as Shane pulled him to the staircase. “If this is your way of asking me to be _intimate_ with you then I’m refusing your offer. Not when you drank the entire bottle of Veuve in front of me on an empty stomach.”

“I had two devilled eggs,” Shane claimed, his mind, now filled with the thought of telling Ryan the undying truth somehow pushed away the fact that Ryan suggested sex— _sex_ between _them_. “And I respect your rejection, it’s not wise to have sex when I chugged the entire bottle.”

“I’d prefer my partner to be sober, yes,” Ryan nodded his head, Shane couldn’t see him, hence he was behind him after all, but he knew that his cheeks had glowed into a red shade, flustered with the idea of sex.

Oh, wait, cross that, it was Shane’s cheeks, he was flustered beyond all hell. “Where are we going?”

Because of Shane wandering, he finally looked up, where he had been leading Ryan this entire time. It was one of his spare rooms, the one that Ryan spent the night in for the first time. Undisturbed and tidy, the bed made, and the faint aroma of daffodils from the incense he’d left there.

“Wrong room,” is all he answered with before whirling around. He must have taken one step with his dazed mind before he felt himself fall to the ground with a thud.

When Shane came to, it was dark. His eyes blinked away his exhaustion, twitching slightly at the amount of liquid that his body had; he wanted nothing more than to stand up and throw it up. He tried to sit upright, too, yet, he felt something on his chest, unmoving and keeping him still.

Shane regained his senses, all five of them and realized that he was in his bedroom. Lying on top of the covers with Ryan next to him, sleeping soundly on his side with his arm draped around Shane’s torso. If Shane wasn’t an idiot, he’ll coo at him but since he procrastinated his fate by drinking himself to near death, he did the next big thing. 

“Wake up,” Shane cleared his throat, pushing his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up, Ryan.”

Ryan’s forehead creased as his eyelashes fluttered, trying to wake up. Ryan groaned and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “What the fuck, Shane?” He fumed, turning around and grabbing his glasses from Shane’s bedside table, “what is it now?”

“Could you be nice enough to tell me what the hell happened?” Shane elaborated, he now lifted himself by his elbows. It must have been hours since they’d arrived home, afternoon, he supposed. If they were lucky, dinner time.

“You passed out,” Ryan addressed, his own voice gruff from sleep, “I carried you to your bed and I felt tired so I took a nap… it seemed like we’d been sleeping for a while.”

“Wh—” Shane shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t breathe, he exhaled and kept the oxygen within his puffed cheeks. When Ryan sat up too, he let it out, sluggishly. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t think you’d mean to pass out after drinking an _entire_ —”

“I’m sorry, we—” Shane swung his legs to the edge of the bed, he noticed that Ryan left him with his clothes but took his shoes off. “We—I had to show you something and I fucked it up because I passed out on you.”

“It happens to the best of us.” Shane would love if Ryan didn’t joke right now, considering what he’s about to do next. “You could show me now? What’s the rush?”

“I want to be pretty,” Shane blurted out, “I—I’ve been thinking about it and I really _really_ want to be pretty, like now.” He narrowed his eyes when Ryan gaped at him.

“Okay?” Ryan finally spoke, standing from Shane’s bed slowly. “Is this a bit?”

Shane was about to deny this, but froze when he saw Ryan move closer to the window. Ryan wasn’t wearing his clothes from earlier, he wore a loose black sweater over his jeans, the sleeves longer than usual and folded twice to _at least_ show his wrists. It occured to Shane that Ryan was wearing one of his sweaters.

Aw, fuck. Seriously?

“That’s my sweatshirt,” Shane pointed out, _fuck_ , not the way he wanted to. Ryan looked down then back up before nodding.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

“I didn’t want to sleep in a button down, Shane, I was really tired.”

“I don’t—We don’t have time to talk about this,” except they do, Shane is going to die and Ryan’s wearing his shirt again. “I have to show you something.”

“You said that. What is it?” Ryan walked over to him, following behind until they both reached the armoire by Shane’s bed. “The armoire?”

“You ever seen _Narnia_?”

“Is that another movie reference?” The corner of Ryan’s mouth curled and he grumbled, “I don’t know many movies, you know this.”

_I’d_ _show you_.

“I know. You should watch more of them, the classics. On your days off, just catch up on movies. I have plenty of dvds, you’re allowed to take any that you want—”

“What if I want to see one with you?” Ryan interrupted Shane’s rambling, the only reply he got was a bite to his bottom lip and the sound of Shane unveiling his armoire. There wasn’t anything special about it, it was his wardrobe after all. Arranged sweaters and shirts hung by it’s handles, color coded and free of wrinkles.

Shane placed a hand on the set of sweaters, pushing them far to the right to make room for both him and Ryan. “You heard of teleporting through doors, ever try an armoire?” 

“What’s the difference?” Ryan stepped inside his wardrobe, ducking his head to from hitting the top of his wardrobe. “What the hell is happening right now? Is this one of your deity tricks?”

To make the situation easier, Shane looked around his bedroom for the last time and sighed, closing the wardrobe door behind him. One could only wish that Steven would forgive him, he’ll find Ryan in his room—wait. 

Nothing happened.

When the door closed behind them, pressing the both of them chest to chest, crouching down uncomfortably and—they were atrociously close to each other. Shane looked down, tucking in his chin and caught the dark eyes of a perplexed Ryan, as soon as they locked eyes, Ryan’s eyes widened and he looked away. 

Strangely, Shane kept his eyes on him, watching his every move in the silence of the armoire. There was nothing around them but Shane’s clothes, one of which Ryan was wearing. Their chests squished together, breathing in sync and Shane _knew_ to hold it inside when he felt Ryan’s pecs brush against his.

He… he never thought about it.

Honestly. Sex was beyond what he believed to do with Ryan at one point, but now as they were surrounded by tranquility, no tourists or Steven, much less _ghosts_ , it was nice and for a moment, Shane _liked_ it.

His mind betrayed him, he thought of touching Ryan’s bicep, trailing his fingers until he reached his sweaty collarbone, to comfort him he’ll kiss him and who knows what would happen from there. God forbid that their first time having sex is in Shane’s _armoire_.

Especially when Shane was minutes away from fucking  _dying_.

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice called out to him, Shane pushed away his thoughts and suddenly returned once Ryan gave him a _look_. The look didn’t mean _hey, have sex with me_ , but it was a _look_.

“Uh—” Shane, like a fool, raised his hands and hovered them over Ryan’s shoulders, “right, right, let's teleport now.”

Wow, you could almost _feel_ the tension and Shane just slammed the armorie’s door open. Instead of his bedroom, they both got a glimpse of a meadow; a field that stretched out for miles, among the blooming petals of red roses, scattered all around a cobblestone path or blowing with the nonexistent wind.

Shane hasn’t been here since November.

“What the fuck…?” Ryan gasped, annoyed from the way he had to stay inside of the wardrobe and got out first, dragging his feet to the imaginary place Shane took him to.

Almost like a wallpaper, the sky a cloudless tenebrous shade, stars in the sky as if was now nighttime, and the fresh smell of pinecones and roses. Just like Shane remembered when he woke up after resurrecting. Pinecones and roses.

“It’s a meadow I created,” Shane revealed, euphoria now gone and replaced with anxiety. He must have been on adrenaline or shock, his limbs moved on their own and his mind was shut down; now that the realization _hit_ , it hit hard and he kind of wanted to take Ryan back home and forget about it.

No. No, you have to do this. Ryan is better off this way.

“I created it the day I met you,” Shane continued, stepping out of his armoire and closing the door behind him. He felt a twinge in his heart as Ryan smiled at him, eyes gleamed with happiness.

“Is this where you got the roses?”

“If you’re referring to the ones I gave you, yes,” Shane nodded his head, “they weren’t supposed to die, they’re not even real.”

“It looks real to me. You’d fooled me, big guy. Is this part of my graduation gift?”

“If I say yes, would you do me a favor?” 

Ryan’s smile grew wider and his eyes filled with interest. Shane said nothing more and extended his arm, palm down for Ryan to take.

When his boyfriend took hold of his hand, Shane was sure that he would have passed out from the sadness he felt; utter depression consumed him from dying here, surrounded by roses and Ryan, smiling at him, convinced that he’ll be pretty by the end of it.

“Anything,” Ryan shook Shane’s hand, squeezing it. “Your hand is sweaty, do you have a fever?” 

Shane shook his head, “no, baby. I’m fine. You have to do everything I say okay? Removing—” he swallowed, “removing the sword isn’t easy and you may have to get Steven for help afterwards, you know how to go back right?” He raised his chin to the armoire.

“I think so,” Ryan's eyebrows rose, “you told me to think of the place I want to go and then I’ll be there.”

“Yes, baby,” Shane responded, exasperated, “yes, that’s exactly what you do. Don’t forget that, okay?”

He took a few steps forward, his socks stepped on a few wet petals and held Ryan’s hand by his side. Every time he had to look at his boyfriend, Shane had to lean down, neck ducked and at the perfect length for kissing his temple.

That’s what Shane did, he pressed his lips on Ryan’s temple, hoping that Ryan didn’t catch his lips quivering against his skin. “You think of my bedroom, or your bedroom, or hell, Tasty, you just get help okay?”

“Shane, what’s going on?” 

“I’m just making sure you understand, sometimes, I may not be there for you,” Shane whispered against Ryan’s head, he felt his eyes water and shook his head to get rid of them. “And I show you this place just in case you ever wanted to visit it. It’s _ours_ , like the park is and—just, understand the power that you have Ryan, your ability to see ghosts is a gift bestowed to you.”

“I’m aware,” Ryan pulled him away, his face overcome with worry. “I’m just removing the sword love, why the speech?”

“C—can’t I give you a lecture? I have to turn this into a lesson somehow,” Shane taunted him, “take your time okay? You don’t need to rush this. I—”

I love you. “I trust you, immensely. This is important to me. And… Ryan, none—if you mess up, it's not your fault.”

Poor Ryan nodded his head, giving him a soft look and a smile. He looked at the blade speared in Shane's chest, a few inches away from his rib cage and transparent by default. “You don’t deserve this curse, I’m going to pull it out okay? No more pain for you.” 

Shane gave him a mirthless chuckle, void of any happiness. He winced when Ryan let go of his hand, raising both of them in front of the hilt of the sword. His chest flinched when Ryan’s fingers twitched, moving closer and closer until he closed his fist, and his hands went—

Right through the sword. 

With a yelp, Ryan stepped back, holding both of his hands to his chest, puzzled. He gave Shane a nervous smile and tried again, trying to touch the hilt with his right hand but it slipped through him, like it would if he tried to touch an apparition.

Ryan couldn’t—

“I can’t,” Ryan tried once more, this time his left then with both of his hands but none of them could grasp the sword. All of his attempts ended up with his hands going straight through the lucid blade. “I can’t touch it. Do you—do you feel anything?” 

Shane didn’t speak, and stared as his boyfriend tried to grab the cursed object. As soon as he realized that Ryan asked him a question, he shrugged, “no, I feel nothing.” 

“Oh,” Ryan arms fell to his side, the breeze from the meadow hit the side of his face, strands fell into his eyes.

Whatever that kept Shane locked in place left him be, he let out the breath that he was holding as his own hands touched the sword, he was able to, his fingers stroked the silver blade and the look on Ryan’s face was one that Shane never seen before—full of fear and uncertainty.

It hit Shane then; Ryan was not his betrothed.

Then, who was?

 

* * *

 

Ryan tapped the end of his pen on the notepad, the words _nachos, extra cheese_ stared back at him. He probably looked irritated because Jen sat on the farthest stool by the bar. He sighed, rolling his eyes and placing his pen on the counter.

“I’m not angry.”

“No, but you might bite,” Jen replied, swinging the stool with her hips.

She’d gotten stronger. The two weeks that Ryan had mentioned her new superficial powers, she finally got around to manipulating objects in order to interact with them _without_ running out of energy.

How he knew this? He doesn’t.

Fuck knows how ghosts and apparitions work; Jen argued that she might be a poltergeist now, considering that she was still invisible to the human eye.

Kelsey, Ryan’s boss raised her arched eyebrow at the moving stool, said nothing about it and looked at Ryan. “Got something on your mind?” She pressed, bending down beside him and pulling on his white t-shirt. 

“Yes, actually. What’s your experience with communication in relationships?”

“Oh lord,” Kelsey groaned, she stood up with two empty glasses, filling them up with whiskey and placing one of them in front of Ryan. She adjusted her tank top, keeping herself busy as Ryan downed the whiskey. “Miscommunication is the fucking worst.”

“I _know_.”

“So what? Big man Shane is avoiding topics now? Isn’t that something.”

“It’s not—it’s not something to bring up during dinner. But you could say we’re at a stand still.”

That was the shorter, simplified version.

Shane hadn’t brought up the sole fact that Ryan _couldn’t_ touch the blade, much less lift his curse or the fact that he is _not_ the one he’s supposed to marry. Jen said otherwise—but trying to convince Ryan that he was the goblin’s betrothed was like talking to a brick wall at this point.

While Shane kept contact, he refused to bring it up in any way that Ryan would. It… honestly, it pissed Ryan off.

He and Shane promised to keep their relationship honest and take it step by step. Keeping it all to himself and leaving Ryan out of the picture made him feel like that he was nothing but a human that Shane could come home to and cuddle his pain away.

Ryan hated it; he hated it to the point where he doubted dating Shane to begin with.

What was great about dating a deity anyway? What the hell would have he gotten out of it? A lifetime of unanswered texts and treated as if he were a mere housewife? Last time Ryan checked, he was a man like him, human but a man nonetheless.

He was a man in a relationship, one that should be surrounded by honesty and some goddamn communication.

“I don’t know how much I can take, Kelsey,” Ryan continued, pressing his fingers into his eyes. Kelsey refilled his glass, giving him a reasonable amount for three in the afternoon. “He’s my boyfriend, god knows that he’s my best friend,” Ryan swallowed the alcohol, wincing at the tough burn in his throat. “But holy _fuck_ is he insufferable.”

“It only shows how much you care and love him,” she affirmed, swirling the whiskey in her own glass. “I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s always in the right—he’s _not_. There will be moments where he won't be. Though, I do think that you should give him time, be patient until he’s ready to tell you the truth of whatever the fuck you both are arguing about,” she downed her whiskey and placed her glass on the sink. “Only dating for two months and the both of you act as if you’re arguing over your joint taxes.”

Just as Ryan was about to tell her that he’ll rather summon him with the zippo lighter and shout at him for a little bit, the bell from Tasty’s front door rang, and Shane Madej strut inside with all his glory. Clean-shaven with his blue button down, smiling widely and pivoting over to Ryan and kissing his cheek.

“Hey,” he greeted, “haven’t heard from you in a while. Is it time for lunch? Hey, Kelsey, can I take him out?”

Kelsey, as if she never had been frustrated at Shane, smirked and nodded her head. Like the bartender stereotype she is, she brought up a rag and began to clean the inside of a few glasses. “He has been grumpy all morning, take him for a sandwich.”

Ryan glared at her, “I have not, don’t listen to her.”

“Great!” Shane cheered, eyes crinkling, “do I got a place for us to eat! I think you’d love it, we’ve been lacking on the brunch portion of our dates. There’s nothing better than a scrambled egg at a quarter to four.”

“What is happening?” Ryan mused, no choice but to remove his apron and leave it at the counter, “are you on something? Did you take something?”

“No,” Shane gave him a flat look, everything about him seemed normal, he was the way Shane acted before they started dating.

Which is strange, this Shane usually hid behind a smile and a joke, teasing Ryan and stuffing him with food. The Shane he knew would cling to him, confidently tell him stories or complain about something that Ryan had no interest in listening to anyway. “I’m fine? What about you? Do _you_ take something?”

On purpose, Ryan thought of a gruesome murder, pushing it in front of any other worries he had in his mind until Shane whirled around and gave him a… smile?

“I don’t think I’ve seen you eat bacon before,” Shane quipped, “have you had any bacon?” 

Huh. At least his boyfriend doesn't invade his thoughts spontaneously.

That gave Ryan a _little_ bit of hope but he remained angry. The longer Shane kept postponing the _talk_ , the angrier he got. Lunch was alright, they talked and ate, halfway through, Shane had moved from across the table to next to Ryan, pressing his shoulder onto his.

It wasn’t _bad,_  he was hanging on Ryan's arm, which was good because Shane had been acting as if he were on three different substances. When they left the restaurant and back to Ryan’s job, it was when Ryan couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Why are you avoiding it?”

Shane turned to look at him. “Avoiding what? Telling you about—” 

“About the sword, Shane,” Ryan snapped, he pulled away from his hold and pointed at his rib cage. “I can’t believe you’re going to ignore the problem _again_.”

“I’m sorry? I didn’t think it was something to talk about?”

“Didn’t think—are you fucking joking? How about the fact that I can’t touch it? How about the fact that you’re cursed until your beloved removes it?”

Noticing the looks from bystanders, Shane dragged Ryan over to the side of a building by the plaza, the optimistic exposition now gone from his face. “Do you want to talk about it? Honest, Ryan I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“So you didn’t bother to ask for two weeks,” Ryan’s seethed as Shane raised his hands in defense, “two _weeks_ Shane! Are you kidding me?”

“Why didn’t you bring it up?”

“I didn’t want to offend you!” Ryan argued on behalf of himself, “I’ll take the blame for not asking but if I knew you were willing to talk about it, I would have asked!”

“We… we really need to work on communicating. Ryan, I don’t know what to tell you except from what you already know,” Shane’s eyes rounded, “I’m just— I’m just happy. It’s complicated—I—there’s lots of things you don’t know about me and I’m not in the right mind to tell you now. But—but hey—hey—”

Shane cradled Ryan’s face, “we got all the time in the world to talk about it. I’m happy that you’re not the one responsible to lift my curse—who it is, whoever it is—wouldn’t compare to you, I swear.”

“I believe you,” Ryan exhaled, and leaned into Shane’s hands. “Trust me more okay? Promise that you’d speak to me about anything? It might be hard for you, I understand that, take whatever time you need to speak to me.”

Shane smiled and pressed his forehead on his. “I do trust you, I’m just happy. I get to be with you for a long time—and I’m happy.”

“I sure love acting like I’m a teenager with you,” Ryan’s heart fluttered when Shane chuckled, closing his eyes, “It’s a harsh reminder that it’s only been two months.”

“Do you suppose it’s from anxiety?” Shane pulled away and blinked, “let’s tone it down a bit? How about we just give each other some time to ourselves? I do have that promotion I’ve been trying to get.”

“Huh, I don’t think Kelsey’s ever promoted _me_. I’m sure you’d get it, big guy, what kind of fools would they be not to?” 

Shane gave him a half shrug as a response, “I’m not exactly the ideal worker, I manipulate employees, more often than not have been fired—” 

“I don’t know, sounds like employee of the year material to me,” Ryan joked, lightly tapping on Shane’s cheek.

 

* * *

 

Life returned to normal after that or as normal as it could have been before.

They talked about the sword; in the end they both decided to stay together and if Shane’s real betrothed ever came into the stage, they’d deal with it then and add them somewhere in their screenplay of a relationship.

Speaking of, they were doing fine, as much as relationships go. Ryan worked, Shane worked, they met for lunch or met after work; called and texted each other. They didn’t meet sometimes or argue, and Ryan took this time to job search. 

Communication was still a work in progress. The uncertainty of Shane's curse served as a blockade, yet, Ryan kept his ground and waited for Shane to get his thoughts together so they could talk.

Dating a deity wasn’t easy. It wouldn’t be easy if Shane wasn't either. He was but a man with a past of ex-lovers, centuries of living on Earth and moving from city to city. It didn’t cross Ryan’s mind that Shane might have trust issues and once it did, it became a lot smoother to talk about their insecurities. 

They were fine. 

Ryan pressed his cheek on the door, listening to Shane’s voice as he spoke. His tone laid-back, however, his words were muffled through the solid door and Ryan didn’t understand. Yet, the sound of his voice… it made Ryan smile.

Sometimes, when Shane wasn’t acting out, Ryan would press his ear to his chest and listen to him talk for hours. His chest would vibrate, moving the transparent sword along with him as Ryan rested his upper body on him—

“Ah!” He gasped, out of nowhere his body fell forward by gravity but before he found himself on the ground, two pairs of arms caught him.

Shane looked at him shockingly, holding his phone to his shoulder as somebody talked to him through the receiver. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, mouthing the words: _what the hell are you doing?_

Ryan indulged him, his ears were red with embarrassment there wasn’t a chance to deny it. “I need to talk to you.”

“Everyone needs to speak with me,” Shane said out loud, “ _no_ , not you, carry on.”

With his phone still pressed to his ear, Shane pulled Ryan upright, he kept him within arms length and Ryan decided to close the cruel gap between them. And because he’s the best boyfriend ever, Ryan buried his face into Shane’s chest, wrapping his arms around his hips.

Shane patted his back and replied to whoever he was speaking to. This time, Ryan heard every word, every syllable resonating through his ears. He had no idea what Shane meant when he’s ask about _company_ _packages_ but who cares? Ryan deserved to coddle his boyfriend. 

After a moment, Shane began to lead them back into his office, cupped the back of Ryan’s neck and closed the door. Ryan scrunched his neck when Shane finally hung up.

“You are clingy, get off me.”

“This is the thanks I get? After all this time—” Ryan let him go anyway, unwrapping his arms around him and Shane let out a startled gasp.

“You _actually_ let go of me, don’t do that—” Shane pulled him back in, hugging his body to his and laid his cheek on Ryan’s head. Yeah, after days of Shane working, they hadn’t had the time to speak, let alone hug.

This? This was nice.

Ryan smiled, “I came by to check on you. Finished with work?”

“I am,” Shane nodded his head against his hair, pressing a soft kiss before letting him go. “I am finished with paperwork. I have to call another client. Why? Are you bored?”

“Not bored,” Ryan shrugged his shoulder. "I missed you a _little_ bit."

"A little—" Shane chortled, "how could you miss me? We were together last night."

That didn't stop Ryan from missing him.

Ryan stayed the night after Shane asked him to. As his day off, Ryan slept until noon and ate leftover Chipotle. It wasn’t part of his workout regime, much less the healthiest option. 

He spent the day alone until Shane returned from work, kissing him and telling him that he’ll finalize his paperwork in his office. Ryan told him that it was cringe-worthy how domestic they were, Shane only kissed him again and pulled himself out of the picture.

(“Just like a real father, leaving your husband and children! Come back here and tend to your fatherly needs!”

“What the hell are you talking about.”)

“After—after all that mess, we haven’t been to a _real_ date.”

“We had plenty of them—”

“Sure. Not—” Ryan nibbled on his bottom lip, “one between you and me, _us_.” 

“Us?” 

“Us.”

Shane let out a chuckle, squinting his eyes at Ryan before rubbing the side of his neck. “Whenever _you_ say things like this, I feel like I’d pass out on the spot.”

“Is it because all your blood is rushing to your head?” Ryan mused enthusiastically, “it might take a while for your blood to travel through your long ass legs—” 

“I get it—I get it,” Shane lifted up his hand, “we’ll go out tonight, what were you thinking? Drinks? Out of the city?”

“How about a walk?”

“That’s—something we haven’t done in a while.”

“Last time we did, you were drunk and your hand was stuck to a pole in London.”

“I don’t remember,” Shane admitted, “I’ll try to skip the alcohol this time. Let me call this last client and we’ll be on our way.”

“Deal,” Ryan beamed, “you want anything for dinner? Steven wanted to cook for us.”

“Making our son cook for us? What kind of parents are we?”

“We _aren’t_.”

 

* * *

 

“Daysha had mentioned that before,” Ryan laughed, “she loved blackberries the most when she was alive.”

“Can’t she touch things now? Surely we’ll feed her some of the bubble tea,” Shane pointed out, then he held his lower stomach with a grimace, “if she’s lucky it’d just phase through her.” 

“You shouldn’t of had two servings, that’s your fault.”

“That's not what you said at the time, the sugar would start hitting you soon.” 

Ryan hummed, yeah that was true. Ryan knew little of the festival they went to but Shane informed him for two hours of the history of berries. Then proceeded to fill him with five different types of berry deserts.

It was _really_ good, the best thing that Ryan’s had since New Orleans, and he’d begged Shane to go next spring. Which they will of course, Shane promised.

“Do you know anything about that though?” Shane asked him after a few minute of shared silence. They walked side by side through the plaza where Ryan worked, the sun had set hours ago and the only company they had were of dreary pedestrians or parked cars.

Shane like to walk in between two buildings, an alleyway that he knew of. Ryan knew the route to his apartment was shorter if they walked by the street, though he didn't tell Shane that because he wanted to spend a bit more time with his boyfriend. 

“About their ghostly abilities?”

“Nah,” Ryan answered truthfully, “I knew nothing when I started seeing dead people, I haven’t googled what happens when they _touch_ and _move_ things.” 

“Any new powers then?”

“What’s this sudden interest?” Ryan taunted, he turned his head at Shane and gave him a toothy grin, “why didn’t you ask her yourself weeks before? Or…” Ryan faked a gasp, “is that why you were mad?”

Shane rolled his eyes but he began to dig his sneakers on the sidewalk, “I’m curious as to how they evolve, don’t hold it against me baby but I am having a hard time coming up with an opinion on the matter.” 

“Shane they're not _pokémons_ ,” Ryan smiled when Shane rose his eyebrow at him. "I'm curious, too. Jen's appearance is starting to worry me, if I didn't know any better, people would start talking to her too.”

Shane opened his mouth to reply, a quirk as to how that’s impossible but his eyebrows knitted together, his forehead scrunched up a second later.

“What’s up?” Ryan blinked at the road ahead, “did you feel a supernatural presence, deity?”

“No, the—”

With a soundless cry, Ryan watched as Shane bent over, hands instinctively protecting his abdomen. He groaned, stepping backwards until his back bumped the streetlamp.

“W—what—Shane, are you okay?” Ryan pivoted to him, Shane ducked his head down to his chest and he curled into himself. His hair fell over his rattled eyes and quivered against the lamp. “Are you—tell me what to do—I—” 

Frightened, Ryan averted his eyes from Shane’s fragile state to the glow within him. The sword emitted the familiar blue aura, blinding Ryan as he squinted his eyes.

No, this was different, it was _releasing_ something. Shane’s soul? Is it part of his soul? What should he do? 

“What—what—what should I do!” Ryan stammered, he stepped forward when Shane stumbled backwards away from him. He looked into his eyes then, eyes swam with tears and fear as he hissed in pain.

It was hurting him. It was _hurting him_.

In a trance, Shane leaned on the pole, defeated and Ryan stared at the hilt of the blade. His eyebrows furrowed as he observed it materialize in front of him and his hands reached for it frantically. Shane hadn’t noticed, he lowered his head as Ryan continued to reach for the sword.

With shaky fingers, Ryan concentrated and wrapped his fingers around the band of the hilt. Within seconds, he felt the bizarre texture of fabric or a cloth that hung from the sword’s hilt. He shuddered when he felt the sword in his hands, and that’s when he gasped.

“I—” Ryan swallowed the relief he felt, his forehead began to sweat as tears welled up in his eyes. “I can touch it. Shane—Shane, I—Hold on, big guy, okay? I’ll—I’ll remove it.”

He can touch it. I’m his betrothed. I’m destined to be with him.

I can remove it. I can ease his pain—

“I’m going to pull it out, okay? I'm going to help you baby—” Ryan rambled on top of Shane’s bellows of anguish. Shane’s head fell backward, neck extending as he hit his temple on the streetlamp and a line appeared between his eyebrows. “Just hold on, I’ll make it quick.”

Gathering his strength, Ryan clasped his fingers around the hilt of the blade and pulled. Harder than it looked, the sword did not waver and he tried once, twice and a third time. When Shane let out a scream, the blade began to move from his wound, a crimson scab that Ryan could see as he pulled it out.

The area around Shane’s chest began to flush, swollen into a horrid bruise and Ryan watched it pulsate as he removed the sword, the blade crushed Shane’s rib cage and his skin broke apart under his own hands.

What the hell?

Ryan paused, his eyes rounded horrifically. “I—” 

“ _Stop_!” 

A hand reached for Ryan, the force of their hand shoved him backwards onto the air. It was over in a split second, his mouth released a frail shriek from within and he watched his vision blur as he thought to collide fatally on the pavement. As in slow motion, Ryan let gravity take its course before he’s falling into the concrete—no, into somebody’s arms.

A pair of arms catch him, cradled him as they both fell to the asphalt. The concrete separated by the immense force, cracked under the strength that Shane had used to push him away. When Ryan opened his eyes, Shane was holding him to his chest, an arm under his head and the other holding his bicep.

He saved Ryan.

Shane stilled, chest rising from rapid breaths as he composed himself too. He was blanketed by debris, back twisted and his forearm formed a bruise.

Ryan wanted to ask if he was alright, if he was hurt—but the shock of _almost_ dying from Shane’s, his _boyfriend’s_ , hand left him disorientated and all he could do was give him a smile.

Shane fell apart in his embrace, head fell to Ryan’s neck as he sobbed. He cupped the back of Ryan’s head in his hand and began to lift himself from the concrete, pieces of it had fallen on Ryan, he noticed as he sat upright on the floor. 

The concrete they landed on was a devastating sigh. A huge chunk of the sidewalk was gone, debris strewn and slabs of the once intact pavement lay a foot away from them. If he knew better, the force of his head on the hard pavement—strong enough to fracture his skull—would have instantly kill him. 

“Shane—”

“I heard you,” Shane snarled, rapid breathing into Ryan’s cheekbone, “I heard your fucking thoughts.”

The tone of his voice made Ryan flinch, he stilled as Shane pulled them both up to their feet and steadying them on the cracked sidewalk. Ryan winced, his upper body ached, and he wanted to go home, sleep it off but he knew that sleep wouldn’t come easy.

He could touch the sword after all. 

His hands grasped it, he felt the fabric under his fingertips and he _felt_ it as he tried to remove it.

Why did Shane stop him? Was he in a heap of pain when he tried to pull the sword out?

No, Shane wouldn’t have hurt him intentionally.

“Shane, we—” 

“I’m taking you home,” Shane cut him off, he started to limp in the opposite direction. Ryan heard the sound of the concrete repairing itself, he didn’t bother to ask or see and he dragged his feet over to Shane.

Angry that he pushed away what the _fuck_ just happened, Ryan scowled, “we have to talk about this—”  

“ _What the fuck do you want me to say_?” Shane snapped, whirled around to face him and gritted his teeth. His eyes burned with resentment that Ryan could barely lock their eyes. “That I almost killed you? You? The person most important to me? That I almost crushed his skull?”

“Yeah? Why aren't we talking about it?” Ryan declared, livid, the adrenaline running through his veins made him this way, otherwise Ryan would pass out from shock. 

“Yeah? You idiot—you almost killed _yourself_  and it’s from that!” Ryan jerked his finger at the transparent sword, “why did you stop me?”

“We’re _not_ talking about this now, Ryan,” Shane bossed, though the fury in his eyes faded a bit more. Ryan was about to push when Shane took him into his arms, and balanced him beside him.

Something in Ryan told him to shut up, relax his muscles and fall into Shane’s embrace. He wasn’t sure it was the shock wearing off but Ryan's energy drained to the point where he couldn’t hold his head up.

Shane held him tight. He did not move—just held him. When Ryan opened his eyes, Shane was gone.

 

* * *

 

Kelsey held her gaze, eyes narrowed as she tried to read his disturbed thoughts, she must have gotten something because she stopped moving altogether.

“Honey, are you alright?” She called out to him, she flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, “you’ve been spacing out all morning, you wanna go home?”

“I need these chips Kelsey,” Ryan quipped, smiling and pushing her out of the way slightly for the chips in question. “Do you want to talk? It’s been a while since I’ve heard from _you._ ”

Doubt crossed Kelsey's face but bless her her heart, and went along with the abrupt topic change. “My boyfriend is taking me out tonight. At this point I’m worried that my mother is looking for wedding receptions.”

Ryan bit back a bitter laugh, “yeah, wouldn’t that be something,” he arranged the chips inside the red basket, walked over to his waiting customers and told them to enjoy their lunch. When he returned to Kelsey, he noticed that she was holding a can.

“It’s soda,” she explained, and stretched out her arm so Ryan would grab it. It was coke, opened and full as Ryan could tell. “Drink some of it, the sugar in it would help you unwind. You’re limping.” She added a knowing smile. 

Ryan didn’t disclose to as to why his body was sore, the back of his neck bruised and he couldn’t move much of his right arm. If she believed that he and Shane had sex so be it, it was better than telling her that Shane threw him in the air and slammed him on the sidewalk—breaking it in two to save his life.

“Giving me whiskey would be better than this,” Ryan drank some of it anyway, wincing from the cold, flavorless taste and pressed his lips together. “Thank you.”

“As I was saying, my friend Quinta wanted to know if she could have a job here,” Kelsey jutted out her hip and she leaned on the counter, holding her head up with her hand, “I couldn’t say no to her, she’s so sweet. So, I’m going to need to to work less in the summer— _only_ —”

She raised her chin at Ryan when he opened his mouth to argue against it—he _was_ and pressed his lips together. “Only for June and July. She’s a full-time student and wanted to help me out before she left for school in August."

While Ryan would complain, he accepted it, working less meant more time with Shane. The thought made his stomach tangle in several knots, he was happy to spend time with his boyfriend, though after last night, Ryan knew that Shane would be gone for a couple of days.

“More time for that hunky man,” Kelsey teased, wiggling her eyebrows, “take a break. After graduating, I’m sure you’d rather sleep for months instead of working.”

She had been right about that, for the next two days, Ryan caught up with his sleep schedule. Mexico took most of it out of him, trying to get used to sleep at eleven instead of two in the morning was hard—more so when Shane was around to hang out with him. 

Ryan shrugged and tossed the can in the trash when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Sorry, I’m out of town and I won’t come back for a while. Take care of yourself, baby. I left you a weeks lunch._

“You meal prepped for me,” Ryan grumbled at his phone.

This was a relationship.  

Ryan slammed his phone on his kitchen counter, threaded a hand through his hair and ate the meal Shane left him for next few days.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t remember the last time he walked to his apartment alone—he doesn’t remember the last time he  _walked_ home. After his afternoon shift on the last day of May, Ryan limped his way to his apartment, occasionally fixing his gelled, stinky hair under his cap.

He tried not to think about this morning when Shane wasn’t there to greet him, he knew that at this point, he was obviously avoiding him because of what happened between them.

What happened when Ryan touched the hilt of the sword.

Ryan shut his eyes, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to _breathe._  Shane wasn’t being honest with him about it, that he knew. 

But what could it be? What led him to hurt Ryan the way he did? What was he  _afraid_ of?

The feel of the old sword’s hilt in Ryan’s hand was eerie, shockwaves ran through his body when he touched it and every vision he’s had of a younger Shane, a cold-blooded man crossed his mind without his intention. Nothing as he thought would be—Shane told him he'll be  _pretty_ , what Ryan felt? That wasn't pretty.

Why was he cursed? 

Why didn’t he let Ryan help him?

Ryan huffed, shook his head and continued to stomp furiously to his apartment. This was stupid, Shane was stupid. If only he had been honest with him to begin with, they both wouldn’t have to deal with this like children. 

“That wouldn’t help would it?”

Ryan shrieked, whirled his irritated body to the chilling voice. He let out a shaky breath as he held his hands over his heart, which was seconds away from beating out of his chest. To his right, a man leaned by his apartment complex, his hip on the wall, crossed arms over his own chest.

The man wore black—a suit that rivaled Shane’s—with a hat adored atop of his head. He glared at Ryan’s fearful expression and smiled, taking his off his hat in one swoop and revealing blonde hair. It was then that Ryan could see more of the man’s face, a square jaw with a flawless stubble, keen eyes and a wicked grin.

“Reaper—” Ryan drawled before he could stop himself. The man in front of him was Andrew—the grim reaper from last year— who showed himself before Shane and himself in Canada, a grim reaper who by the touch of his skin could _kill_ him.

Ryan took a step backwards, just in case. “Andrew? What are you doing here?”

“You do know me,” Andrew addressed and he nodded, “I know about you too.”

That… didn’t answer his question. Cautiously, Ryan turned his head to see how far he was from the door of his apartment complex, Andrew blocked the path towards it. Suddenly unnerved, Ryan jammed a hand into his pocket and fiddled with the zippo lighter. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I am a man of my word. I do not stray beyond my jurisdiction.”

“Why are you here?” Ryan demanded, Shane never mentioned Andrew since Canada. He had told him that they were past enemies, knowing each other for centuries. He also told him that while Andrew was a stubborn man, he never betrayed God’s law to _only_ take dying souls.

Ryan blanched, “are you here to collect my soul?”

“No,” Andrew answered icly, his right eye twitched and he took a step forward. “I would ask of you to not call that man here but I come to understand that he’s not in the city.”

Ryan’s lip tightened, summoning Shane worked _even_ if Shane was in another country.

“I came to speak with you, since the goblin is—” 

“His name is Shane,” Ryan corrected.

Andrew’s eyes twitched once more then gave him a smile. “ _Shane_ is incompetent and can not tell you the truth.” 

“He will tell me when he is ready,” Ryan claimed sternly, he raised his chin at the _grim reaper_ , though what he really wanted to do is bolt out of there and into his apartment complex.

There weren't any people around the block, a few pedestrians crossed the street but they strayed away from the spirit in front of Ryan—smart.

“Would he?” Andrew fretted. “I’m here because we know that you touched the sword.”

“What—”

“I felt it. Your ghost companions felt it, we all felt it and we braced for it. Yet—” Andrew cocked his head and lowered his voice, “he is still alive and you are—”

“I don’t see how this is is any of your business,” Ryan told him off indignantly, he grounded his jaw as he took a step forward.

He could hear Shane scolding him for challenging a reaper, but he didn't give a shit. He once told him that spirits and ghosts are electromagnetic wavelengths, and if Ryan thought of that now, took the science-skeptic side of it all, then he would use it.

“You, or any other person, or—!” He pointed a finger when Andrew opened his mouth, “Or! Any other ghost or spirit, or _deity!_ Should not meddle in my boyfriend’s business or mine! Hasn’t he been through enough shit already? All this time—he’s been protecting me from you, I am obligated to do the same because I’m his boyfriend. I _will_ protect him. So, haunt _me_ all you want but leave _him_ alone.”

Ryan ended his speech, his finger closer to the reaper from comfort and he wrenched it away before he decided to kill Ryan. Because Andrew didn't reply and processedRyan’s words, Ryan jogged past him and towards the door of his apartment complex. He had taken out his keys when he heard a chuckle. 

“What now?”

“Just—” Andrew turned to face him, “just—what did he tell you?”

“What—” 

“Did he tell you that he’ll turn pretty if you removed the sword from his chest?”

Ryan’s eyes rounded, however, he knew that Andrew can read his mind too, he ignored him and scrambled to look for his key with trembling fingers. 

“Do you know what happens when people die, Ryan?” The sound of his keychain drowned out the sound of Ryan’s pounding heart, the blood ran to his head as all of his machismo seconds before left him as fast as it came. He shook his head cowardly, Andrew stepped closer until he was close to him again.

“When a human dies, their soul is collected by yours truly. To which they’re taken to the entrance of limbo. Do you know what I do to them there?” Andrew’s voice grew deeper, chilling Ryan to the core and he shuddered and shook his head again. 

“I give them tea,” Andrew smiled widely, showing his teeth.

He does what—

“Tea?” Ryan whispered.

“I give them a cup of tea. By drinking herbal tea, their memories will disappear and they will begin anew. That’s what would happen when you die.”

Ryan’s face paled, he tried to move back from Andrew when he stumbled, holding onto the wall for support. “That’s not true. I won’t drink it—”

“You’ll live a long life of despair, recounting your sins and knowing Shane is out here alone until you resurrect—otherwise he won't be able to rest in peace."

“What are you talking about—” 

“He will die when his beloved removes the sword from his chest,” Andrew told him, no hesitation in his words. “He will die the second you remove it. He will drink the tea and he will forget you forever—it is God’s will and Fate’s and you will go through with it or he will  _never_ find peace.”

Ryan bit his lip hard, drawing blood as he tried to blinked his eyes dry. He felt his tears fall however, over his flushed cheeks as he let out a sob. That was the truth, Andrew wouldn’t have lied to him—what would he benefit from it? His soul? Surely, Ryan had died when—

… 

Ryan let out a cry of disbelief and for the first time, he had wished that he never met Shane Madej.

 

* * *

 

Ryan didn’t sleep last night. He spent around an hour outside of his apartment complex after Andrew disappeared.

He cried, trembling alone on the pavement as he hid his face from view. He couldn’t stand nor could he speak, he was powerless. He never felt this way since his mother died, all of his emotions crashing down on him all at once and overwhelming him until he submitted to his sorrow. 

It worked; he cried until he had no other choice but to go inside. He laid there on his bed, work uniform and all, gelled hair stuck his his forehead as he bawled his eyes out. At one point he thought to summoning Shane to shout at him, to curse at him until he lost his voice. 

Instead, to save him from Ryan’s needless pain, he hurled the zippo lighter across the room. 

He didn’t know what to do, he was exhausted, sleep-deprived, and sad beyond compare. He didn’t know if he wanted to see Shane in the first place, he was afraid if he saw him, he’ll end up in tears again. 

“I don’t want to blame him,” he murmured, the sound of the ocean crashing on the rocks served as the only reply to him. His eyes welled up, tears threatened to fall as he spoke to his mother. “Mom, I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I understand why he lied to me,” he went on, twiddling his thumbs around the loose strand on his mother’s scarf. Shane insisted that he’ll get it fixed because it was falling apart at the seams. Ryan told him it would have been better to buy a new one, to let go of his past and move on with his life.

Then again, everything up until now, Ryan had been living a lie.

“Was he the angel mom?” Ryan sighed and shut his eyes, “was he the one who saved you?”

A breeze hit him in the face, salty specks of ocean water lands on his cheeks and lips. Ryan knows that his mother is unable to speak to him, she’s not here physically, and if Andrew was telling the truth, she had forgotten him.

“Did he—” Ryan swallowed, “did he save me?”

His heart clenched inside his chest, compressed with such melancholy that he scared himself with the vision of tearing his own chest apart to pull it out. To pull out his sadness, his happiness, his _everything_ and become an emotionless robot. He opened his mouth to speak again when he heard an unfamiliar noise. 

One that he hadn’t heard in months, the sound of faint thunder in the distance. When Ryan opened his eyes, he paled at the sight of dusky clouds rolling in through the sky, the aroma of rain filled his senses and his lip quivered.

Shane was back.

Shane was... sad?

When he felt the first drops of rain, he ducked his head and sobbed. “Mom? W—why is this happening to me?” 

He sat on his knees on the rock, holding himself through the freezing rain and sniffed, he tried to stop crying the second he began to shiver. 

“Why are you crying?”

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, he felt the presence of smoke around him as he lifted his head. “Ryan, why are you crying? Are you okay?”

Rain stopped hitting him the second he felt his boyfriend’s behind him. When he turned and stood, Shane was there and holding an umbrella to shield him from the rain. Ryan wanted to tell him that he was crying with him because the rain was _his_ doing.

“I miss my mom,” is all Ryan came up with, hair stuck to his forehead, teeth clenched as he tried to fight back the cool air against his damp skin. “I miss my mom, Shane.”

Shane gave him a soft smile then held him in his arms, he wrapped an arm around Ryan’s neck and held him to his warm chest. Shane was still in his work clothes, neat and fresh from his business trip to god knows where—he smelled of the damp air. 

Ryan dug himself further into his chest and hiccuped, despite the fact that Ryan had been told about their future. 

—They have no future. 

Ryan pushed those taunting thoughts to the furthest part of his mind, and wrapped his arms around Shane’s hips, holding him to him as he cried. In the back of his mind, he remembered crying like this months ago, when Shane held him and told him that he was lucky to be alive.

All this time—all this time Shane _knew_.

Shane knew that he couldn’t have human friends, he couldn’t love them and watch them die. And now that Ryan was here, the person who would _kill_ him in the end, he had no choice but to lie to him to make him happy.

“There, there,” Shane consoled, his hand patting the top of Ryan’s hair. He ran his fingers in Ryan’s scalp, massaging it with his fingertips. “I’m sorry for what happened to her. Keep crying if you want to, I’ll be here.” 

For how long?  

_I’ll always be here._

“I know,” Ryan hiccuped, “you always are.” It’s time for Ryan to be there for him too. He promised to protect him one cold afternoon, lying in bed together in Mexico or the time where Ryan stood up to a ghost stalking his boyfriend.

He would protect him from himself, he deserved to live his life and Ryan—Ryan reminded him of his doom.

Oh god. Then in the meadow—Shane was planning to die. 

That made Ryan bawl louder, letting it all out into Shane’s blazer and under the umbrella. He couldn’t speak, much less utter any word that would defy their relationship. He understood well all of Shane’s intentions, and the blame doesn't lie on him but _god_ , wouldn’t it be best if they never met?

Their relationship had been rocky from the start, often times it didn’t work out and other times it was hard to continue dating him. Yet, Ryan stayed, he cared for Shane’s well-being, he was the first friend he ever had, he was _nice_ to him.

He saved his mother’s life.

“When I cry, it rains,” Shane’s voice interrupted his thoughts, softly whispering over the pitter patter of the rain hitting the umbrella, “it rains when I am sad. Sorry, I didn’t tell you before but that’s why I left… I didn’t want to ruin your week.”

_You don’t have to hold it in_ , Ryan thought, _I already knew this_.

But he didn’t want to reveal that. Steven told him by accident and it was all Ryan thought of whenever it rained heavily or when it drizzled for a few minutes. His boyfriend was sad, he held it in for Ryan’s happiness—everything he did, all the lies he told—it was to keep Ryan happy, to keep him around until he removed the sword and _kill_ him _._

He is supposed to kill him.

“Oh,” Ryan chocked out instead, then looked up, pressing his chin on Shane’s shirt, right above the transparent sword. “Do you cause hurricanes too?” 

Shane laughed, lowered his head and captured Ryan’s lips with his. He knew the answer was no and even as the rain subsided, Ryan knew what he needed to do—he had to keep his boyfriend alive.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Shane found himself standing in an empty apartment, void of any clothing or any hint that anybody had been living there. 

Puzzled, he dropped the take-out boxes and walked around Ryan’s apartment again, phone in hand. He had been busy with work, even after he had returned from his self-business trip outside of L.A. Ryan understood, or, it seemed like he did at the time because now, he didn’t answer any of Shane’s calls.

He didn’t find it odd, Ryan could go days without calling or texting him but the empty apartment worried him, tenfold. 

“Oh you’re here?” A new voice called out, relief set in his heart and Shane turned around to greet Ryan. Except, Ryan’s landlord stood in his place, holding a box by his hip and a look of pure confusion on his face. “Ryan’s boyfriend, right? Kelsey’s other friend?”

“Uh… yes,” Shane watched as Ryan’s landlord stepped inside, a man in his mid-thirties, a full beard adorned on his pale face as he dropped the box by the door, once Shane got a better look, there was other boxes inside the apartment. “Ryan?”

“He didn’t tell ya?” The man clapped his hands, “well, Kelsey’s taking the furniture with her, tell her these boxes are for her to pack up her things.”

“Wait, what’s happening?”

“Ryan’s gone, that’s what’s happening,” the landlord replied, “mind if you finish up quickly here? Got a couple wanting to see the apartment.”

Shane paused, none of what the landlord was saying was important to him other than, “Ryan’s gone? Where did he go? Did you move him to another apartment?”

Ryan’s landlord gave him an odd look, one that made Shane shut his mouth and try to use his critical thinking skills.

Before he could come up with anything, the man said: “Nah, man. Thought you were going with him but he’s out of the city, gone, maybe out of state. Nobody knows where he went, not even Kels. She sold the apartment and is looking for ya. Mind if I have an eggroll? I’m starvin’.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! It's post-mortem day! And Kristin's video styling the boys will probably come out today too! Lots of content coming our way. :')
> 
> So, this is another one of my favorite chapters, and the cause of my sleep-deprived state two weeks ago while editing this. We'll finally get the reunion we've all been craving for. Maybe? This is the longest chapter of the story, **53k words.** I divided this chapter into two parts to make it easier to read! Get yourself a snack or a drink!
> 
> I know I said it before, but we've passed 1000+ hits and I'm very, very grateful. Thank you all for reading! Leaving comments and kudos! You're all wonderful! 
> 
> Warning: there's a near-death scene in this chapter, proceed with caution!
> 
>  
> 
> unbeta'd  
> 

**PART I**  

Shane walked into his office Tuesday morning. Only six in the morning and the summer sun had heated the department inside. He tugged on his collar, relieving his throat from sweat as he walked jauntily to his desk. 

“Don’t tell me,” he cried at the purple binder in the center of his desk. It wasn’t there last night. “It’s not even seven in the morning—” 

“I’d agree, but it’s not for you,” somebody chimed in and his assistant, Niki strode to his side by the doorway. “You’ve been promoted, chief, pack your things.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll be head of the precinct, the main guy, the _boss,_ ” she announced when Shane grounded his feet inside his former... office? “Do your magic thingy and move it, I have to show you your new office.” 

“My new office?” Shane questioned, he snapped his fingers clumsily and Niki held her breath at the sight of his things tossing themselves around into a box.

She closed the door to the office, “don’t _actually_ do that. I’ll explain on the way.” 

Shane was tempted to mess with her further, to make the box float to his _new_ office but instead he lifted it up into his arms and began to walk behind her.

Turns out, his boss had offered Shane a client last night. Said client was so fascinated with him that he praised him to his boss. And that, was the third one this week. And it was only Tuesday.

Shane felt a bit of pride, knowing that with his deity status, he could climb the ladder effortlessly than anybody else in L.A. But he didn’t plan this, and he got promoted. To _supervisor_ of their communal division. 

“I don’t know why,” Niki confessed, she jogged her way to the office. Shane had struggled to keep up with her at first until he told her that she needed to memorize the way to his office from her desk. 

“He called me in the minute I clocked in,” she added, “Niki, tell _Shane_ he’s been promoted and escort him to office three-oh-four.” Her impression of their old boss made Shane chuckle, maybe he laughed—it sounded like a restrained choke because the box he was carrying pretty damn heavy and he was dazed from the fact that he got  _promoted._

Oh well, Shane could wing it.

“Here you are,” Niki opened the door to his office, “three-oh-four.” She tossed the office keys on top of desk. “I’ll bring your paperwork up here—”

“I still have paperwork to do? As boss?”

“Yes—” 

“Give it to whoever is taking my place,” Shane squinted his eyes, smiling, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Niki laughed out loud, “whatever you say bossman. Call me if you need anything.”

As Niki walked away, Shane finally got a better look of his office. It was roomier from his last, curtain less windows, vacant bookshelves and a maroon couch facing his desk. It was dull, but Shane snapped his fingers and let his companions do the work for him.

As his things stirred above his head, he walked over to his desk nonchalantly, touching the wood with his fingers and groaned when the corner of _something_ hit his head.

It had felt like the edge of a frame—a painting but when Shane turned his head, he saw a familiar face looking at him.

“Steven,” he blinked, “what are you doing here?”

“You...” Steven trailed off, “you forgot your lunch, again.” He extended his arm to Shane and he held his lunch box, one that he bought in as a joke when—

“Thanks,” Shane laughed cheerfully, “I must have been in a hurry this morning.” 

“You were,” Steven smiled back, though he looked uncertain. “Uh, everything okay? I was told to wait for you outside on a different floor.” 

“I was promoted,” Shane assured, adjusting the sleeve of his collared shirt as Steven rose both eyebrows. “I didn’t even manipulate my way to this. Comes to show how great I truly am—” 

“Shane,” Steven interrupted swiftly, he swallowed before he turned his head to the side. “I didn’t—”

“You’re a fool, Madej!” A new voice barked over Steven, a bitter one, feminine and one that Shane hadn’t heard in three weeks. Everything in the room stilled, suddenly frozen in place and fell to the ground with heavy thuds. “You’ll hide yourself in here instead of—”

He only hoped—

“Kelsey,” Shane verified, though his stance was still, he nervously fiddled the lapels of his jacket. “It’s nice to see you here, I’m sure Steven told you—”

“Cut the bullshit, Madej,” Kelsey's bore into him and she shook her head, pivoting into his office. She made it to his new desk, dumped her purse on the wood and readjusted her fur coat. It was August, but Shane didn’t need to remind her—he was sure she knew that. “Have you stopped looking for him?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Shane snuck a glance to Steven, he hadn’t made any effort to step into the office after Kelsey. “Kelsey—” 

“Have you?” 

“Kelsey—” 

“Have _you_?” She repeated, sneering at him. “I don’t know what the deal is between you—”

The phone rang, a distant sound that echoed in his chaotic office and rendered both Kelsey and himself to a halt. His heart jolted in his chest at the sound, and without a word, dragged his feet over to answer it hastily.

“Yes? Shane Madej here,” his voice cracked halfway through his introduction, if Kelsey noticed she didn’t comment and continued to stare at him.

“ _Oh great, it works,_ ” Shane shut his eyes, sighing and lowered his head on the desk, holding himself up with one hand as Niki spoke through the receiver.

To alleviate Kelsey’s concerns, he replied: “Yes Niki, it works. Don’t hesitate to transfer any calls for me.” Then hung up, Kelsey swallowed and locked her thin jaw. Her eyes held such hatred that Shane never seen before and he was afraid of what she’d say next.

“I know that you love him and the last thing you wanted was for him to leave.”

Shane didn’t reply.

“I know Shane, but he’s still out there and if he’s hurt or—”

“Thank you Kelsey,” Shane spoke over her snarky words, he hated to admit it; her shrill voice reminded him of Ryan’s aunt and the first time he met her. “It was great to see you, you’re always welcome here,” he gave her a polite smile, “I should start packing, I have lots of work to do. I’m sure you have to open Tasty? Can’t leave Steven hanging.”

Kelsey’s eyes narrowed and Shane froze in place, for a moment it seemed like that she’ll strike him across the face. She said nothing though, and Shane prefered if she had.

Frowning at him, Kelsey took her purse and walked out, Steven looked at him worryingly before following behind her, leaving Shane alone.

He bit the inside of his cheek, wouldn’t it kill them to close the door behind them?

 

* * *

 

“So what?” Niki raised her arms, a fork in hand and the other cradled her lunch, a black tray with what Shane would think is pasta. She had her legs sprawled on his desk, crossed over each other as she leaned back on one of his chairs. “She starts classes next week, on her _birthday_ and we just have to accept that?” 

“It sounds like you’re going through an epiphany,” Shane scratched his head, “life is unfair, Niki.”

“Yeah, you and I both know that,” Niki looked down to her plate, she moved her fork, scraping what was left of her lunch.

Shane kept his emotions bottled in, and nodded his head, giving her a pleasant grin. “Celebrate Gabi's birthday on Saturday if it bugs you that much.” 

Niki shrugged.

For all the times Shane’s been working publicly, of all the employees he’s met—many of them loved or hated his guts—he never could understand the desire for drama _in_ the workplace. He couldn’t pinpoint it, though if any of his tutors taught him something, he knew to prosecute the one closest as something devious as this; all strings led to Kelsey.

“This isn’t about the party, is it?” He pushed down his anger, Niki is the last person he wanted to fight, while Kelsey would snap his body in half like a twig, Niki would throw him out the window and make _him_ do it. “Did she put you up to this?”

Niki sighed, she threw her tray on Shane’s desk. “She wants to know what you’re thinking. Don’t—don’t manipulate me into telling you what she said. If you want to know it’s in the lines of: what have you done to him?” 

Shane unconsciously nodded his head, what a subtle, vague question Kelsey. Kudos to leaving the dirty work to his assistant—a woman he'd offered advice to—just to poke at his personal life. “I have no idea what she means by that. Anyway, what happened to the report I asked for?” 

Like a switch turned on, Niki straightened herself up. “I—I have it, I have yet to type it. I should be going now.”

“That’d be the right thing to do,” Shane beamed, and as a topping to the flat dessert added: “don’t forget tomorrow, and my invitation to your wife’s party.”

“You…” Niki paused, she fidgeted on the spot, “you want to go? I thought—”  
  
“I’d love to attend, I’ll bring Steven along.” 

The look on her face was one that Shane had to endure through for months now, he wasn’t sure if she was less upset than pitiful but she smiled anyway. “Yeah! That’d be great, um— right, see you later Shane.”

She closed the door behind him, leaving Shane alone. Though, he had second thoughts and clicked his tongue, he stood from his chair and called her name again. The sprint she did back to his office was outstanding and she looked hopeful when she opened the door.

“You forgot the tray,” he remarked, side-stepped from his desk and to the briefcase on the other side of the room, “you always forget to throw it away, Niki, what would your wife say?”

Niki didn’t respond, he didn’t think she would, and he watched as she wordlessly took her empty tray to the trash bin outside.

With a shake of his head, Shane went through the folders inside of his briefcase, his fingers skimmed through tabs with bright-colored labels on them, when he found the folders in question, he zipped it shut and looked up.

He came face-to-face with a painting, one that van Gogh painted—a replica of _Starry Night_ that hung beside one of the shelves in his office. His eyes observed the colors for a moment, taking it all in from the damaged wooden frame to the faded colors, the mimicked signature on the bottom and he had the urge to flip it around so he wouldn’t see it anymore.

Shane forced his eyes away from the painting and back to the folder, he hated paperwork but it was a great distraction.

 

* * *

 

Steven jumped on the spot, holding the refrigerator handle in a death grip as he blew out his cheeks. “Shit, you scared the shit out of me.” 

“I only asked if we had milk,” Shane's lashes fluttered, he held the box of _Cheerios_ in one hand, “can you check? I don’t want to—”

The sound of the fridge opening cut him off, the faint noise filled the air as Steven checked the shelves for anything _milk_ related. “Nope,” he answered, “we don’t have milk, we don’t even have the soy milk you insisted on buying which you never drank.”

“Oh well,” Shane set the cereal box on the counter and reached behind his pant pocket, “here,” he handed Steven his wallet, an old brown one, with nothing but ten dollars in cash and an old coupon for god knows what. “Go buy some milk.”

“Me?” Steven pointed at himself.

Shane swayed the wallet in front of him, “yes, you. We both drink milk so buy two gallons, I’ll be upstairs working.” 

“If you… say so,” Steven reached for the wallet reluctantly, folding it and shoving it inside of his own pant pocket. “Will you be okay?” 

“I’ve waited longer for other things, I’m sure I can wait an hour to eat cereal,” Shane quipped, giving his nephew a tight smile. That wasn’t what Steven asked, and the look on his face confirmed it but he let it go like a smart student would.

Shane kept himself busy until he heard Steven shut the front door behind him, and let out a hefty sigh, placing his elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbing his hands on his face. 

“You can come out now,” he ordered, his words muffled by his hands.

“I have been here you didn’t need to ask that of me,” the second voice vibrated into his house seconds later, Shane didn’t need to turn around to see him leaning on the doorway, hat in hand. 

“Brave of you to wait for him to leave,” Shane remained still, if he were to turn around he might strangle him to death. Funny, considering that he was a reaper and already _dead_. 

“Brave of you to dump the milk out,” Andrew, who had been a few feet away from Shane (for safety reasons,) gestured to the trash bin with his chin and walked to the counter. He also sighed, dumped his hat on the counter and—mocked Shane’s actions from before—rubbed his fingers around his jaded face.

Andrew looked like him now, dark circles underneath his eyes, his mouth on a constant grimace and his forehead creased. He wore the same clothing though, a black suit and his signature black hat, both on or off.

Deciding to be the one to retrieve the bad news, Shane leaned back on the counter, the marble digging into his spine, “did you find anything?”

Please. Please nod. Say anything.

“No.” Andrew simply remarked, “I did not find anything. With your luck, I assume he did not return your calls?” 

Shane did not reply, Andrew knew the answer to that anyway. Shane bit his lip, nibbled it with his front teeth as he felt the normalcy slipping away. He didn’t need another episode, much less he had no energy to clean up after himself afterwards. He hadn’t had the energy to do much recently. 

“This is your fault,” he spat.

“Madej—”

“If you didn’t fucking threaten him, he would still be here,” Shane hissed, tossed the stool with his hands hard enough to let it fall over to its side. Andrew didn’t move as Shane pressed forward. “This is your fucking fault.”

“Do we have to have this conversation every time?”

“Until you get it in your fucking head yes,” Shane glared at him, “yes, we do.”

“I’m currently looking for him, you don’t need to threaten me.” 

“Like you did to him?” Shane scoffed, turning away from the reaper when he had no answer to give him. Rubbing his eyelid, Shane wondered: “why did you tell him? What occurred to you to tell him?”

“He had to know.”

“I would have told him myself!” 

“You wouldn’t have,” Andrew laughed, vitriolic and void of all joy in his own damn kitchen. He stood up straighter and turned to face Shane. “Don’t lie to the both of us, Ryan isn’t here to hear it—”

“Don’t _fucking_ say his name!” Shane bellowed, depleted and overwhelmed with grief, Shane let himself fall into the counter, pressing his forehead on the cool surface and panted.  

It has been two months since he’s seen Ryan Bergara.

After Shane had found his barren apartment, his landlord explained that Ryan decided to not renew his lease, instead, gave him the keys and told him that Kelsey was selling the apartment. Which she went along with, devastated that Ryan had unexpectedly quit the day before and assumed that it had something to do with a new job.

Shane couldn't find answers to Ryan’s whereabouts, much less from anyone he knew. Nobody knew where he went, and what made matters worse, Brent had been gone too. In June, Shane spent weeks looking for him, he searched everywhere that Ryan would probably go to—New Orleans, Miami, New York, hell, he traveled to Canada to look.

With nothing in hand, he returned home disappointed.

Kelsey was furious the entire summer, mostly at him than at Ryan. She insisted that she’d look for him herself, in which she tried, for an entire week after she convinced herself to file a police report (that had gone cold, since Ryan left on his own accord) and traveled to different parts in the city to look for his aunt (also cold, his aunt lived in Sacramento and Ryan wasn’t here.)

There was little they both could do other than wait for Ryan to call _them_. And that was the worst part, Shane didn’t know if Ryan was even okay.

If he was safe and was eating, if he wasn’t in any danger with the authorities or with strangers. And he couldn’t know unless Ryan called him tomorrow or in ten years.

If he called.

“We’ll find him,” Andrew vowed after a few minutes and Shane heard him shuffle around, dusting off his suit to leave. “I’ll keep looking, don’t expect answers from me right away, I do have work to do.”

“I just—” Shane’s heart felt heavy, and as he crouched down on his own counter, he begged himself not to cry. “I just want to know if he’s safe, _please_ , I’ll do anything, I’d give you money, I’ll avoid you, I’ll give up my powers, I’ll make him kill me—just—just please, tell me if he’s okay.”

Shane didn’t lift his head, his shoulders twitched as he let out a few dry sobs, if Andrew left, Shane didn’t realize until the sound of the front door echoed through the house, then he straightened himself, drying the few tears from his eyes, but Steven—he would already know.

Steven was soaking wet, drenched from head to toe with his hair sticking out in different directions. “I got the milk,” he murmured, placing them on the counter before wrapping his arms around Shane. 

Shane let himself curl into his nephew, clutching his wet shirt in his fingers and _cried_. He cried into Steven’s neck, his forehead digging into his collarbone and just cried.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Shane shook his head, he tried to argue but he couldn’t find the words, his throat gave up on him and he continued to buried himself in Steven's neck. “Where is he, Steven?” He tried to repeat his words, but the best that came out had been a muffled cry of Ryan’s name. 

Steven kept his tight hold on him, squeezing him to him and rubbing the back of his nape with his fingers. It reminded him of Ryan, the way he would run his fingers on his scalp, to his nape, making him shiver on the spot. 

But this wasn’t Ryan, Ryan wasn’t here. God knows where he was.

“We—we’ll find him, I promise. Shane, he’s safe and sound and we’ll find him.”

“There’s a reason why he doesn’t want to be found, nephew,” Shane lamented, he kept his tears at bay as he spoke, however, he couldn’t stop his voice from cracking. “I understand why. I do, I just want him to be okay—”

Pulling away from the embrace, Steven placed both hands on his cheeks, holding his head still. “He’s a grown man,” Steven went on, “Ryan is most capable of taking care of himself. You know this better than _anyone_. I’m sorry that he left you, give him time and he’ll reach out for you, I swear of it.”

Shane nodded, he nodded until his neck hurt; he avoided talking about Ryan for two months, he searched for him until he realized that Ryan left because of _him_. When Steven let him go, he failed to tell him that Ryan knew the truth, not by his own lips but from an unknown reaper.

What Ryan was thinking, Shane didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom the frustration and suffering that Shane must have unwillingly put him through. _Currently_ , going through. It _hurt,_ Ryan believed that Shane never loved him, only used him as a ploy to die and left him with the guilt of killing him.

If anything, Ryan’s departure made Shane realize that he’s been an idiot. How could he have lied to him? How could he have lied to Ryan?

The man who had listened, trusted and loved him unconditionally? The man who stuck by his side for _months_ , tolerated his pesky habits?

How could he have taken that for granted?

Shane let himself fall into his couch, now a resentful reminder of the times Ryan had spent the night, slept on this couch, sat on it with him.

_He was pathetic_ , he thought as he rubbed his hands together.

Time passed as he continued to sit there, expressionless and with half-lidded eyes, he could have sworn that the sun rose, yet, he sat on his couch, no expression shown.

Once he heard the first sign of morning, the birds chirped and the wind blowing outside his windows, he forced himself to smile.

Today marked a thousand and _fifty_ years since he was resurrected.

Will he ever remember his real age? 

 

* * *

 

A week later, Shane found himself to grow into the promoted role he was given. Albeit suddenly, he learned paperwork was still necessary under _certain_ conditions and he was in charge of giving orders to interns and other employees.

It was rewarding, he no longer had to sit through grueling meetings with clients but he still had to set up said meetings and presentations to move them all further as a company.

Shane was no lawyer, he had no idea how they saw the world or what they thought about somebody in front of them. The lawyers under their name liked him though; they approved ninety-nine percent of Shane’s ideas (with and without manipulation) and had even suggest he _himself_ would try to find a career as a lawyer. 

He refused, Ryan thought he would make a great lawyer. 

A week since his death anniversary had Shane wondering of what he should do next. He exhausted all options—from sticking by a phone for days, to physically looking for Ryan.

He decided not to do the latter, hopefully, Ryan had been safe all this time and had the chance to beg for space. But Shane was getting worried, if Ryan was safe, wouldn’t he call him to say so?

To drop off the face of the Earth like that, it was bizarre and Shane never had a fleeting thought of Ryan’s safety. Still, with no phone call or signs of a Ryan Bergara in L.A, his last option had been to visit Kelsey.

He never seen her apartment before, especially since she had been living with her boyfriend all this time. She opened the door for him, looked optimistic for a moment before frowning, a line in between her forehead as she gritted her teeth together.

The anger towards him was expected, she hated his guts for lying to her employee and friend. As a deity, he had decades to centuries to endure human emotions towards him, mostly ignoring them but Kelsey? She scared the shit out of him.

“Can—can I come in?” He asked, making sure to not step over his boundaries. Kelsey said nothing but ducked her head, moving herself out of the apartment and closing the door. 

“We can talk out here,” she suggested, she crossed her bare arms over her chest, her cap placed backwards on her head and hid her blonde hair. She looked as if she had gotten home from work, with a sweaty hairline and flushed cheeks. “Well?”

“You’re angry—”

Kelsey scoffed, “I am angry, is that all you came to do? Stand here and look guilty? Do you have any idea how unhappy Ryan was—” she paused, “forget it, what do you want?” 

Shane fidgeted in place, unclenched his fists. He really didn’t want to do this. He had been uncomfortable for over two months, to ask a human for a favor rarely crossed his mind but his ego disappeared when Ryan had left him. 

Now, it seemed like he wanted to leave it all behind him, give Ryan the space he deserved and move on as the man he’s supposed to be before moving away at forty.

He was… tired of the pitiful looks directed at him, tired of Kelsey looking at him with fire in her eyes, at _everyone_ thinking that he would break if Ryan was mentioned for a moment in a conversation.

He licked his dry lips before he spoke again, “I’m—never mind, sorry I bothered you.”

“Shane,” she sighed, the façade she held fled when he turned around. Kelsey dug behind her, and took out a sole envelope from her pant pocket. It was white, wrinkled and had the words _sorry_ written in a haste. “Here, this is for you from Ryan.” 

Shane’s eyebrows knitted at the first lead to Ryan’s disappearance. Feeling like a lost husband looking for his lover, he took it in his hands and gawked at it.

“I already opened it,” she confessed, voice suddenly sickly sweet and reassuring. “There’s no letter, Shane, I’m sorry it’s just—” 

Shane opened the flap to the envelope. Inside, a zippo lighter—the one that he gave Ryan—a few trinkets that Shane bought Ryan for the hell of it, a keychain, some cash, and no letter. He swore under his breath and closed the envelope. Closing his eyes for a moment and pressing the envelope on his forehead.

“I shouldn’t have opened it. I apologize, it was out of line.”

“It’s okay,” Shane ensured, “I understand, you needed to have some idea of what happened.” 

Kelsey narrowed her eyes, the let out a single laugh. “Do you want to come in? Perhaps we could talk about it?”

Shane thought about it, telling Kelsey that he was a deity cursed by the hand of God in search of his lover to kill him could make the situation worse, but to briefly recount the days before Ryan left to her—she needed that.

He sat on her couch, a glass of water in front of him as he told her everything that happened in the last few months. She listened, nearly tumbling over her chair as she absorbed everything he told her. By the end of his story (excluding his status and the truth of Ryan’s disappearance) her eyes widened and she stood up.

“Oh Shane,” she muttered, then took Shane’s glass of water and drank it all in one go. Smacking her lips together when she finished, she added: “is this a lover's quarrel? Haven’t been together for two months and this insane dramatic show you both have over each other, _constantly_. If I wasn’t so worried about him, I would just tell you to leave him and give him the space he needs.”

“That’s what I have been doing,” Shane admitted to her, “I stopped searching for him in June and left him to his own. Though, his safety is important to me and to everyone else who knows him, it’s _killing_ me that I don’t know if he’s okay.”

Kelsey pivoted to his side, sitting down next to him and taking his hand in hers. Her manicule nails scraped against his knuckles but he didn’t pull away, he hadn’t had anybody other than Steven comfort him with touch and that had been needed for months after Ryan’s departure.

“He’s okay, he’s okay, you hear me? He wouldn’t deliberately run into danger to spite you, he thought to leave for himself. If he’s mad at you about lying to him so be it, Ryan has always been a stubborn man.”

She placed a hand on his back, smoothing out his button down with her hand. “In a relationship, you and your partner grow alongside each other, talking and understanding each other. The kisses and hugs are just bonus.”

A corner of his mouth lifted, suddenly curving into a soft smile. “Should I look for him?”

“If that’s what you think is right, speaking to him could help but—”

“We don’t know where he is,” Shane twisted the envelope in his hand, “I understand. Who knew you were the best marriage counselor out there?”

“Uncertified,” she laughed, “do you want to stay for dinner? Honey Bunches makes a killer steak.” 

At that, Shane laughed loudly, “I thought I run out of endearing names to call Ryan, that’s a new one.”

“Every relationship is unique, I’m aware that you called Ryan baby early on,” she sighed, “he was so smitten with you, and you were _worse_. It was like watching a soap opera, it still feels like it. There’s one thing I don’t understand...” she trailed off, taking slower steps to her kitchen.

“What’s that?”

“You must have lied about something _really_ bad for him to leave, are you sure you don’t remember what it was?”

I wish I’d forget.

Shane placed his hand on his chest for good measure, “I’m sorry Kelsey, even if I did remember, that’s between Ryan and myself.”

I guess that’s what it means to be cursed. 

After dinner at Kelsey’s, Shane walked alone to his house. Not the greatest idea Shane’s had all week.

It had been a damp, warm afternoon in L.A, as it would be during the summer. August was ending, soon it’d be autumn then winter would roll around and with no sign of Ryan. 

Kelsey’s words somewhat relieved his worries, Ryan had taken care of himself with or without Shane. Still, he couldn’t help himself to wonder where he is and what he’s doing.

Does the place he was staying at had a Chipotle? Because it served Ryan as comfort food. Has he met anybody who likes him? Who cares for him? Talks to him? Is he sleeping enough? Who is there to hold him when he had a nightmare in the middle of the night? 

All of these things pestered him on his way back home, as well when he was at work or alone on his bed at night. The biggest concern he had, what did Ryan think of him now? Was he hurting because of him?

_Yes_ , his mind tormented him, _he must be livid, never wanting to speak with you again. All because you selfishly lied._

Right.

He wasn’t the best deity.

But would it be a good idea to look and talk to him?

In Shane’s head it was, anything to fix the mess he created among other things. In the end, it was a shitty situation, but Shane missed Ryan. He missed talking to him late at night, kissing him in the morning then at night, he missed everything that made Ryan, _Ryan_. And the possibility of never seeing him again had made him nauseous, his stomach churned at the idea alone.

He’s been through intense physical pain before, for centuries he'd sat through it. But nothing would compare to living for the rest of his life without Ryan. 

So he’d unanimously decided that he’ll try to look for him again. Yet, where would he start? He hadn’t checked all of England, Ryan knew little of England except from where Shane had taken him—

“Oh hey, you’re home?” 

Shane jumped, “what?”

His nephew stood in front of him, he blinked and folded the shirt in his hands. When Shane realized that he _was_ at home, he remembered that time  _still_ passed even if he was pondering. Steven was folding his laundry, picking up a pile of clothes on the couch and setting them inside of his laundry basket. 

“I guess I am,” Shane shrugged confusedly. “You washed?”

“Yeah, your pile is still in the basket,” Steven began to fold another shirt until he paused, “wait, what do you mean you _guess_ you’re home?”

Shane tilted his head, “why didn’t you wash my clothes with yours, it is laundry day right?”

“Shit, you are out of it.” Steven set down his shirt on the couch, “it’s _Friday_ , you didn’t go to work either right?”

“I did, then I went to Kelsey’s. We had a nice dinner, her boyfriend is nice you should meet him—”

“You went to Kelsey’s? Why? Was there a lead on Ryan?” 

“No,” Shane shook his head, and because he’s a gentleman, he picked up Steven’s shirt to fold. He rolled his shirt like he had done many _many_ times when Steven was a child. “I went to apologize to her. We made up, I think. I’m still learning as to open myself to her.”

“She’s nice, I promise.” 

“I know, she told me that I was her favorite, just once in a while she gets mad at me.”

“We're all her favorites. It’s stressful on her,” Steven stated, setting down another pair of pants in the white basket. “Her business is fine, she is having a hard time looking for two waiters now and the new employee already left—”

“Wait. _Two_ waiters? I thought she had to replace Ryan.”

Again, Steven paused, this time he messaged the back of his neck. Evident that he had something to say, Shane sat there and waited.

Steven cracked, letting out a loud groan and tossed the clothes away. “Fine,” his face contorted and sat down next to Shane. “I can’t ever go against that man— I have something to talk to you about.”

“Oh no,” Shane stood up, “I knew this day would come. Steven, I hate to inform you but you’re not _really_ my nephew. Now before you yell at me, join me for coffee and I’ll explain this to you.”

“That’s not—” Shane could hear Steven grumble as he left the living room, he served himself coffee and asked if Steven had wanted a mug, to which he replied with a _it’s almost nine at night I have to sleep_. Steven was quiet as Shane waited for his coffee pot to fill, strange, he always spoke to Shane as he multitasked.

“Listen,” Shane continued, pouring his black coffee in a mug, “It’s not you it’s me, I never wanted a son because I’m too young—”

“You’re in no position to say that,” Steven protested, “stop talking I have to tell you something important.”

Shane raised his eyebrows, he took a sip of his coffee, “are you moving out?” He smacked his lips together, coffee at night was terrible for him, it would keep him awake in the dead hours of the night thinking about a certain somebody. After Kelsey’s however, he knew he needed caffeine in his system.

“H—how,” Steven’s eyes widened, “how the fuck did you know? Did Kelsey tell you?”

Shane froze, the hand holding his piping hot coffee mug paused. Steam hit him directly in the face, flushing his cheeks and making him sweat. He tried to focus his hearing on Steven’s words, making sure he heard right.

He was moving out? God, Steven wasn’t doing laundry, he was _packing_.

“Oh shit, you’re really leaving,” Shane placed his mug calmly on the counter, “what an interesting development. Where are you going?”

“Wait, really? Just like that you’re asking me _where_?”

“Well, what else do you want me to do? I’m not going to ask you to stay, that’d be inhumane,” Shane grinned, “you and I both know I’m generous. This will save me at least a few hundreds in water.”

Steven rolled his eyes, “I can’t seem to pack any quicker,” he mumbled, then: “I was sure you’d object to this. Or knowing you, pretend it doesn’t affect you somehow.”

“Who the hell do you take me for?” Shane provoked half-heartedly, he took another long sip of his coffee, “I’m not your father, I’m not even your uncle, I don’t control you, Steven you had always been free to do whatever you liked.”

“That’s what Ry—” Steven shut his mouth, pursed his lips together but the damage has been done.

Of course Ryan would have known about this before Shane did. One of the few things Ryan and Steven kept from Shane—most of them harmless lies that they believed Shane never knew, this had been one of them that Shane _didn’t_ know. It made him question if Steven knew where Ryan was all this time, but knowing his nephew’s good nature, he didn’t. 

“I _mean_ , I would have told you sooner, trust me I would have but—” Steven trailed off, he waved his hands around the kitchen, he didn’t want to offend Shane but Shane had a sword stuck in his chest, nothing affected him now. 

“You _mean_ , with what happened with Ryan and I?” Shane scoffed, “what happened between myself and him isn’t everyone’s problem. You wouldn’t hurt my pride if you moved out now or back in June, Steven.”

Steven looked doubtful and he narrowed his eyes and behind him, Shane saw the packed clothes in a suitcase. He had been too out of it, delirious to realize that they were coats and jackets, winter attire. 

He really was prepared to leave. The question was when he would have decided to tell Shane and ask for his blessing? It troubled him that Steven had been waiting to do so instead of _doing_ it. Another reason why Shane preferred to stay away from people, they always felt bad to leave him alone, but Steven had lived with him since he was a child—this? It was difficult.

“I have no reason to keep you cooped up here,” Shane replied after another sip of his coffee, “you’re not my son. Hell, you and I aren’t even related by blood. You never had the obligation to stay here for _me._  And if I ever had a child, which you’re the closest thing I ever had to one—that would be the last thing I would ever want for them.” 

“I’ve been alone longer than any human could count,” Shane’s eyes softened with Steven looked away, “And that’s okay. No human should feel responsible for a deity.”

“You’re not a deity to me,” Steven said, merely a whisper, “you’re Shane. And you have feelings too.”

“I do,” Shane agreed, “and once I—” He swallowed his words, no, it wasn’t the time or place to tell Steven that _he_ was leaving to look for Ryan again, “once I get back to living and working, I’ll feel better.”

“I still don’t believe you, but you’re stronger than any other man I’ve met,” Steven claimed, he turned the corner from the kitchen counter and took a sip of Shane’s coffee. He winced at the bitterness of black coffee, “you’d get through this and move on. I know you will.” 

Shane squinted, he ignored the last of Steven’s words to save him the guilt of lying to him, and instead asked, “where are you moving to?”

“Oh! There’s… there’s an open spot for an internship this upcoming spring in San Diego,” Steven brightened up, his entire face lit up like a lightbulb as he explained to Shane what he had planned since the year began. “It’s ideal to get away from my father now, I’m graduating in December and I’m not sure if he’ll try to open a spot for his son.” 

That annoyed Shane, “is he bothering you?” he asked, “he hasn’t spoken to you right? I talked to him last week, it didn’t seem like he knew you were graduating.”

“He doesn’t, I haven’t told him,” Steven wrinkled his nose, “he’ll find out soon, he knows I’m not going to be in school forever.”

Steven’s father had never approved of Steven’s career choice. His father had been a businessman by heart, cruel and unspeakable to Shane’s eyes, but he was still Steven’s father. He was the only family he had left, and it was odd to leave his only son to the care of a stranger.

It was Steven’s dream to travel around the world, alone or with somebody, he had always wanted to _see_ and _do_. Two decades with Shane offered him that more than his father would.

Shane could count the times he took Steven to Disneyworld in Tokyo as a child. Now he was old enough to do the same without Shane, and it will happen, he will live out his dream as a filmmaker and travel all over the world.

Shane only hoped that he would visit The Philippines, Steven had always wanted to.

“So when’s the big day? When do you plan to leave?” Shane questioned as he took another sip of his now cold coffee, his hand trembled around the mug, if it wasn’t his beloved, caffeine was going to kill him.

“Uh…” Steven looked at his phone briefly, “in three days." 

Shane choked on his coffee.

 

* * *

 

Those three days. 

One of the longest three days in Shane’s eternal life. Spending it with Steven, packing his clothes, selling his older ones—

(“I remember buying you this! You were five! Why do you still have this?”

“Shane, sometimes you need to keep things your family gives you, as a memory—you— _get off me._ ”) —and moving said things to his new apartment.

The trip saved them both money, considering that Shane would just walk through a door with boxes and landed in his empty apartment. The smell of _new_ and dust filled the air, shadeless windows drawing in the sun’s rays to expose the rest of the apartment and warmed it up to the point where Shane found himself sweating his ass off.

It was nice, needless to say. White, colorless walls, wooden floors. A kitchen with appliances that _work_ , a bedroom for Steven. Sure, it was nothing like his home in L.A, but Steven was always welcome to all of his guest rooms, including his own childhood bedroom.

“Don’t say that,” Steven told him when he voiced his thoughts out loud, holding his own set of boxes through the door. “It’s not like we’re ever going to see each other again.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” Shane sniffed, “you grew up so _fast_. How would I ever prepare myself for this?”

“You had three days,” Steven retorted, dumped the last of his boxes on the ground. “That’s more than enough for you.” 

It wasn’t. Even if Shane kept his distance with humans through his life, he cared for a handful. Steven was one of them, he was his _nephew_. His family.

Shane couldn’t say that to him, it took him hours to convince Steven that it was alright to move out. Not to mention that he kept slipping and saying things like 'I’ll miss you and the way you abuse the water bill', Steven would try to unpack immediately.

During said three days, Shane didn’t think about searching for Ryan anymore. Mostly, Steven kept him busy. But a part of Shane told him that it was better this way. He saw how Steven moved on after three months without him. September rolled in effortlessly with still no sign of him. 

The more… desperate, irrational side of him _begged_ him to leave after helping Steven. That side wanted to look for Ryan until he physically grew feeble; search every nook and cranny for his lover and hug him when he did.

Except, Shane wouldn’t do that. He was coward and if he saw Ryan, he’ll freeze. 

In the end, he had to start to figure something out soon. Starting with: Stop tormenting yourself thinking about him.

Which is what he has to do currently since Steven’s mouth was moving, talking to Shane. He shook his head and followed his nephew’s lead, discarding the tape from the boxes on the ground. 

“I was a child when I moved in with you. Do you remember? I only had a backpack,” Steven laughed, hopefully he was said meaningless sentences before Shane had the chance to listen in. 

“Right,” Shane removed more tape, “you had clothes and an action figure.”

“I did. You asked me if that’s all I had, felt bad for me and bought me clothes from Gap.”

“Expensive,” Shane grimaced.

“I never knew how stressful moving was until now I guess. I have more stuff than I know what to do with,” Steven stretched his limbs, raising his arms up to the ceiling and alarmingly popped his muscles. “Fuck, the last time I packed and unpacked was when we went to Japan, andI didn’t take anything at—who the hell is that?”

Shane—who busied himself to listen to his nephew's musings—whirled around, facing the man he wasn’t thrilled to see, and beside him, another man hedidn’t _expect_ to see. 

Andrew stood there, wearing his usual attire and holding his finger on the man's lapel, dangerously close to his bare skin. The man in question turned his head from side-to-side with a horrified expression, deeply afraid and unaware of his surroundings, when he looked straight ahead, he locked eyes with Shane.

“ _Brent_?” 

“Happy fiftieth Madej, I got you a present.”

“ _Jesus_ , Andrew,” he uttered out, “fuck,” he dragged Steven, who did not make an effort to interrupt whatever was happening, out of his _own_ apartment.

Despite him fighting against it and asking _who the fuck was that and why was Brent here_ —Shane silently placed his finger on his lips and hushed him, closing the door to his apartment.

Thankfully, Steven got the hint and left them alone, yet, he knew his nephew and his patience wore thinner than any man he’s ever met.

“What the hell is going on?” It wasn’t his own voice, Brent expressed his concern by struggling against Andrew’s finger. He let him go, though he kept him in arms length. 

“Shane? Holy fuck dude, who is this guy? He told me that he—” Brent's hand shielded his neck when Andrew’s finger tapped his collar. “He told me that he could kill me with his touch. Like what the fuck—”

“He knows where Ryan is, tell him,” Andrew goaded, crossing his arms over his chest. “He would not tell _me_ where.”

“I’m glad I didn’t, who are you people?”

Shane lifted his hands up in defense, offended that Brent would categorize him in the same group as _Andrew_ but he let it go.

“I’ll explain later,” translated: I’ll erase your memory of us later, “Brent, where have you been? Is Ryan with you? Where is he?”

“Why the hell would I tell you?” Brent glowered, “I don’t know where he is—”

“He’s lying,” Andrew stepped closer to Brent, who took a few step backwards and stumbled on a few boxes on the floor. “Relax. I wouldn’t kill you, even if you didn’t know of Ryan’s whereabouts.”

Brent looked at Shane then, petrified and color drained out of his face.

“Don’t listen to him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Shane reassured, “tell me where Ryan is, we don’t need the theatherics.”

“That’s coming from _you_?”

“I swear man, I don’t know he—I went to visit my cousin in San Diego—she— _she,_ ” Brent stirred again when Andrew did, though at this point Shane was convinced that Andrew was playing with him. “ _It_ was an emergency! I haven’t heard from Ryan since July!”

Shane’s eyebrows knitted, “July? So you have heard from him.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I have. He’s not living with me or anything, I’ve been in San Diego I swear." 

“Brent, Ryan has been missing since June,” Shane revealed to him, he tried to keep his voice firm but once he heard that Ryan had been spotted two months prior deemed it as a challenge and he couldn’t win. “None of us have heard of him since, we—we thought he was in danger.”

“What? No,” Brent shook his head, “he’s working at my cousin’s ski lodge, Dodge Ridge, he’s been there all summer. He told me that it was because he wanted to get out of L.A—fuck, Shane I’m sorry he told me that you went to be with him when I called in July—”

“He’s working at a—” _god,_ Shane pressed his fingers into his eyes, why is my beloved a stubborn man who runs away to— “a ski resort.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry man, he’s really convincing over the phone.”

“In real life too,” Shane stressed, he locked eyes with Andrew, suddenly aware of the information they received. Now it was a matter of _who_ will confront Ryan first.

If Andrew knew better, he’ll let Shane do it. Otherwise he would disintegrate him on the spot, no matter who was in front of him.

“He’s safe?” 

“As far as I know, my cousin, Diana praised Ryan, he’s been living there, too. They all like him there.”

Like a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders, Shane let himself fall onto a closed, taped box, sitting on it as he composed himself to a human and a grim reaper. He must be dreaming. Ryan ran away from him to a _ski resort_. It was fucking logical, on the tip of his fucking tongue the whole time.

Of course he was there. He told Shane twice about it. Hell, he _considered_ going too. There was time, a date that they went to where Ryan played with Shane’s hand and told him the inevitable: I have never seen snow. 

Shane told him he would show him one day.

Huh, well he saw it alright. Surely, Ryan knew what he was getting into. All of his things disappeared from his apartment, all to for a trip to a ski resort where he’s working his ass off to distract himself from their reality. What a smart man he was, but most importantly—

_He’s safe_. That’s all that matters.

“I’m going to see him,” Shane declared, more so to Andrew than Brent, “I’m going to him. Brent, where exactly is Dodge Ridge?”

 

* * *

 

“Ryan?”

He lifted his head from his plate, locking eyes with his co-worker's mother. She gave him a slight smile before walking over to him with a tray of grilled sausages and bacon.

“Do you want more?” She offered, “I know your lunch break isn’t until one—” even though she asked, she served him another serving of food for him.

“Thanks,” he muttered tiredly and dug into another serving of food. “It’s all delicious as always.”

“I wish my boys would be as grateful as you are,” she huffed, her movements quick as she picked up empty plates left by her children. Albeit six in the morning, she did not show sign of restlessness, if anything she had tons of energy.

Ryan, on the other hand, had to pick himself up every minute he spent there. He was sure if she wasn’t speaking to him, he would have passed out on the spot.

“He looks like he’s about to fall over,” one of Brent’s cousins’ teased, “why? Did you stay up late again? Was it Adam’s fault?”

Ryan nodded his head and groaned, “he walked into my dorm and talked his head off,” he trailed off when Adam’s mother laughed, “he was talking about plans for the month and then something about bubble tea.” 

“That’s my brother for ya,” another voice called out from his right, down the staircase emerged a happy Diana, one of Brent’s cousins. “He has to learn how to leave you alone.” 

“Adam? Leave him alone? Never.” 

“Well somebody has to,” Diana fretted, looking over to her mother, “ma, you have to tell Adam that Ryan needs his beauty sleep. Or else he’ll look like he has night terrors.”

Ryan—as sleep deprived as he was—watched as Diana shrug her jacket off and ignored her mother’s protests to _not_ to. This was part of the routine, all the commotion in the vacant, lukewarm cafeteria and savorous food. It was _home,_ something that Ryan had been missing for a while.

The morning for him passed slower, as it usually would. First, he would eat breakfast with Brent’s cousins’, then he’ll spend some time in the backroom,  _then_ he’s be scheduled to work for the rest of the evening.

Ryan felt a slight shove, a shoulder had pushed him teasingly as he scanned another pair of eights to a couple. He smiled at them, then glared at his coworker for distracting him.

She stuck her tongue at him, and continued on carrying a set of ski boots. Despite it being, oh, I don’t know, in the _negatives_ outside, she wore a blank tank top and tucked into her jeans.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked without looking up, he had to write in the couple’s name in the brown book they had. _The Wilson’s_ , it read underneath a few individual names and time stamps. It was one of those days where Ryan had to memorize their faces and match them with their posted names.

“Whatcha mean babe?” She joshed, pressing herself to him. As much as he enjoyed her, the wound of his relationship was still open and he had no intention of cheating.

Since—they were _still_ technically together.

“Uh,” he licked his lips and nervously moved away. “I mean you’re in freezing weather, wouldn’t your mother be angry?” 

Diana, his coworker, sweetheart at best respected his boundaries and moved, crossing her arms around her chest. “I should of listened. Tough nut to crack, you are. I wore this to impress you.”

“Don’t—” Ryan frowned, “you shouldn’t do anything for a man. If a man likes you, he should like you the way that you already are, with a big ass jacket and warm. He’ll scold you if you did otherwise.”

“I see we’re speaking from experience,” her mouth curled into a smile, and like the mischievous woman she was, crouched down to her knees behind the counter and took out a jacket. “Will you open up your heart to me?”

She smirked as she put on her jacket, zipping it all the way up to her chin.

“Maybe next time,” Ryan answered, “I have other things on my mind.” He waved the brown book, pointing at the several names on the list.

This isn’t the first time she’d ask him to tell her about Shane, and it wouldn’t be the last. Though, she knew when to stop pushing and would change the subject.

“You’re the last man I’d ever try to impress,” she nodded to herself. 

“I know a woman like yourself,” Ryan shared, “the both of you would have gotten along great.”

“Is she nice?” 

“The _nicest_ ,” he smiled, the last he saw Kelsey was when she gave him advice when he was leaving.

She told him that he should be careful and to look into what _he_ wanted to do after he left. His first thought when arriving at Dodge Ridge was to move to New Orleans by the end of the year—but how things are looking, he had changed his mind.

“Yeah, well, you’re nice, too. I hope whoever you’re in love with doesn’t move on from you.”

_God._ That’s the last thing Ryan wanted to think about. Knowing Shane, it’d be hard to talk to another human unless they summoned him by flame.

“Sorry,” she apologized when she caught him frowning. Ryan hadn’t realized that he was, but every topic that involved Shane in them had him looking at nothing for hours. “I didn’t mean to crush ya spirits.”

Diana crossed her arms, setting them on the counter next to him. She sighed and looked forward, taking it as a sign that Ryan didn’t want to speak anymore. 

She wasn’t a bad person, she was a woman who took him in alongside with her mother and brothers. Who spoke to him and worked with him and if he wasn’t going through an unspoken heartbreak currently, he would have open himself more about Shane to her.

It was something that he didn’t think about though, even if she had asked him a few times about Shane. All turned down. The least he could do is be honest with her, Jen had no way of finding him and he hasn’t called Kelsey yet.

“He—” he started, swallowed the lump in his throat. “He took me to Canada. I think he was too excited that he forgot how cold it was.”

Ryan laughed, a single sound in the silence of the resort. “He had to scramble through his money and buy me a jacket, a beanie and gloves. He told me that he didn't care what it cost.”

He turned his head to Diana, her jaw slack in shock and auburn hair falling into her eyes. “He had me in the biggest jacket I have ever worn. He kept it I think, I knew that I wouldn’t need it in L.A, but Sh—he didn’t care.”

He stopped talking then, he let her absorb his words before she said anything. It didn’t take a minute before she let out a set of giggles.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she covered her mouth with her hand, “I—I’m sorry it didn’t work out for the both of you, it sounds like you both loved each other.” 

It wasn’t that we didn’t work. I love him and care for him. That’s the problem. 

“Yeah,” he muttered instead, then routinely smiled at the next set of customers. 

His shift went off without a hitch, Diana left halfway through it to help her mother and he was left alone to the stand. It reminded him of Tasty, whenever Kelsey would leave for the day or when she’d decide to go to the mall in the middle of the shift.

He missed her.

Ryan looked at the brown book, filled with pastel colored tabs and highlight marks. Some post-it notes had numbers to people he had to call later, and the rest are the names of the customers he had until nine today. 

He tried to distract himself with all of this.

With the warmth of the fire, the smell of pine that lurked everytime a customer opened the door, and the odd texture of ski boots. It was all Ryan knew for two months, a reoccurring cycle of his unexpected routine. At this point, he had no room to complain, on Tuesday they served beef stew, on Thursday, green bean casserole.

Fuck. His mother never made him anything like it. She loved to cook rice and pinto beans for lunch, leftover rice for dinner with fried chicken.

(Not counting those times where she’d heat up a tortilla for him in the morning whenever they ran out of cereal.)

For two decades, that was all he knew. She didn’t get the chance to teach him to make rice or beans, but it was all he ordered from Chipotle, not to mention sandwiches or his gifted mac and cheese. 

Here, he had a homemade meal everyday. Brent’s cousins’ mother had been the one to cook for the employees. She was a cutthroat woman who envied Ryan’s tolerance to Los Angeles weather. She laughed at him for the first time when he had a stomach ache after eating a serving of homemade potatoes and ham.

(“You never had anything other than sandwiches? Those damned processed meals they sell in boxes?” She’d chuckle, serving him _another_ serving. “It’s a great thing you’re here then.”

Ryan didn’t want to bring up Shane and how he took him to places he’s never seen before. Even if he was annoying or drunk, he encouraged Ryan to try something new.)

Shane. 

Ryan shook his head. Well, he really couldn’t say he was happy here. He _was_. Brent’s family were thoughtful people, they had been fun to be around with.

Diana treated him normally, her brothers hung out with him and offered him lessons to ski. Their mother _fed_ him.

There wasn’t any signs of ghosts, spirits, or reapers, _deities_ to bother him. He should be grateful that he finally had peace and quiet. Hell, if he were to live here for the rest of his life, he might actually get to move on.

But he knew that wasn’t possible. It was a pipe dream.

Deep inside he knew that this wasn’t his life. It was mundane and he's used to phantasmal beings beyond this world or paranormal spirits that nobody would even comprehend. It was bound to happen to him sooner or later.

It was difficult to find a ghost in the middle of the forest, one that had known him to show up. But if it wasn’t a ghost it would be _something_ —

“Hey!” Ryan jumped, knocking his fist to the side of his own cheek. He moaned in pain as the person who scared him laughed his ass off. If there was one of Diana’s brothers…

“God, Adam,” Ryan cursed, “you scared the shit out of me.”

“Don’t look so pensive. Thinking too much. Diana told me you cracked—I should of known that she’d make you feel sorry for her.”

“That’s not it,” Ryan felt a slight pang of regret, he should have known that Diana wouldn’t keep it to herself. Ryan was an easter egg to them, easy to crack and couldn’t wait to get their hands dirty from what was inside.

Might as well bash Ryan’s head in, the only possible way of getting him to say that his boyfriend was a deity who was destined to be with him forever unless Ryan ripped the sword bludgeoned in his chest to kill him.

“Yeah yeah,” Adam flipped the brown book towards him, mumbling the set of names to himself. Like always, Ryan let him do this, waiting patiently before he said: “Looks good, there’s two more?”

Most of the time there would be one or two left on the slopes, sometimes they’d be none. “Yeah, Diana’s called. She said she’s getting them now.”

Her brother looked at him through half-lidded eyes, narrowing them in a way that had Ryan puzzled. He was never wrong, it was nearly impossible to steal equipment from this resort. They’d have to go through five sets of security— 

“Ryan,” Adam sighed, “I caught up with Diana just now, she said there was only one guy. The Wilson’s boy, he has no wife or girlfriend like you described. Except he _had_ a wife, said that she passed long ago.”

Like that, everything that Ryan knew of a perfect, normal life fell apart. It was like a rock thrown at his head, crushing all of his dreams of normality with them.

If Ryan hadn’t been distracted, he would have seen the way the customer looked at him at he handed him two pairs. The woman behind him had asked for a twelve, when she was half her husband’s height.

“Good, then you caught on,” Adam took it upon himself to rid of the extra pair of shoes. “He got a refund, but he’s not happy. Now, what the hell happened with you that made you think that she was with him?” 

Ryan opened his mouth but Adam continued. “Did you know him? Hold a grudge against him in college? The guys name is Roland, he ring a bell—”

“No!” Ryan answered hotly, he tried to keep inside, the fact that he saw a ghost in front of him for the first time in _months_. “Fuck, I don’t remember. Maybe he was talking about her and I assumed—”

“Why would he be talking about his deceased wife with you?” Adam questioned, not in the least mad but interested and confused. “What is happening to you? Are you sleep deprived?”

“Yes,” Ryan stated quickly, “exhaustion is finally catching up with me…” He trailed off when the doors to the resort opened, Adam didn’t flinch when the doors glided shut and Ryan straightened his back.

There, standing on the two sets of doors was a woman he hadn’t thought of seeing for a long, _long time._

“Ryan?” 

At the call of his name, the ghost looked towards his direction and waved delightfully. “Ryan! Ryan! Hey! It’s me, Jen! Holy fuck! I knew it! That woman was right! The goblin’s betrothed is _here!_ You should have seen Daysha she was hysterical! She nearly crushed that lady in two!”

“Ryan!” Adam called out for him—from god knows where Ryan went—and he stared at his co-worker in surprise. “What are you looking at?”

“I don’t know,” and it was true. He must be hallucinating, Jen wasn’t here, she couldn’t be.

“Okay, okay, I understand. I’m calling it a night man, go to bed and don’t bother coming in until noon tomorrow,” Adam’s words had mixed with Jen’s now, who was still trying to explain herself the best why she knew how. 

“I got it,” Ryan said, directed more to Jen than to Adam. Nonetheless, he took his jacket and shrugged it on, covering himself to the point of a heater for the short walk from here to his dorm. “I’ll be here at noon.”

And like he taught himself back in UCLA, he narrowed his eyes towards Jen for a split second before smiling to Adam. “Thanks man, I owe you one. If you hear any talking to myself in my room, I’m on the phone with a friend.”

“Uh— thanks for the heads up?”

Adam let him go and Ryan's smile faded when he saw Jen’s face.

“Ah, that brings back memories,” she mused, “who would of known you’d escape to a ski resort?”

Employees worked outside in the cold, from security guards who greeted Ryan in passing and younger teenagers who worked in the guardrails. He leisurely stepped on the snow and took out his phone, pressed it against his ear. 

“Hello? Jen? Wow, I know it’s been a while!” He paused.

Jen didn’t reply back to him, but smiled. 

Miles away for three months and things didn’t change. So Ryan smiled back.

 

* * *

 

When he left L.A, Ryan expected everything he ever known to stay there too. Steven’s jokes, Kelsey’s advice, _all_ of Shane. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, after all, they did care for him too. 

He didn’t think that Kelsey would be in the shape of Diana, looking at him with soft eyes and full of concern. That stare bore into his soul, possibly looking for ways to start a conversation without making it worse. If only she knew _why_ she was worried about him then he’ll probably console her.

However, Dodge Ridge _wasn’t_ L.A, and Ryan wasn’t upset. After Jen’s sudden appearance last night, Ryan's definition of normalcy suddenly felt like a long awaited memory. She spoke to him until he passed out. Acting as if they were past friends catching up.

She told him about herself, Maycie and Daysha, how Kelsey had struggled to keep her business intact but had been able to thanks to a special deity, Steven was moving away to San Diego, and Shane—

(“Well, I haven’t seen much of him,” she nervously laughed, scratching the back of her neck.

Ryan adjusted the phone to his lap, “I don’t want to make you sad either. I just don’t know what he’s _thinking_. Maycie said he got a promotion, Daysha said that he was smiling. Between you and me, I think he’s a mess.”

Ryan wanted to laugh in her transparent face, the last thing Shane would be is a _mess_. He’ll try to fix the mess _Ryan_ made and move on. It was the way he should do things.)

—got a promotion. 

“The longer you stare, the more nervous I get,” Ryan declared to Diana, the customer writing in the brown book looked up briefly, “it’ll be nice to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

Diana fidgeted, rolling her shoulders and busied herself with their last customer. When he had left their booth, she exhaled, “ma said you were unusually cherry this morning. Adam said you were on the phone all night—did… he call you? Is he asking you to go back home?”

“No,” he said, “he didn’t call me. I called an old friend of mine to catch up with her. Told me about L.A.”

“And?” She pushed.

Ryan pursed his lips and shook his head, “normal. My friends miss me I think, but they’re all moving on with their lives. Like they should be.”

Diana hummed, “maybe they could come up and visit? It’s not a long drive.” 

Ryan mentally laughed at that, to have Kelsey, Steven and Shane in one resort, the possibility of trying to keep them from arguing with each other was amusing and Ryan _actually_ wanted to see it happen.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.”

His reply made Diana bubbly, smiling to herself as if what she brought up was the best idea she’s ever had.

“You’re wrong about one thing. Sh—my boyfriend wouldn’t call to ask me to come home.”

“Really?” She furrowed her eyebrows, “what would he do then?” 

“He’ll personally come and talk to me,” Ryan clicked his tongue, “but he wouldn’t beg for me to go back.”

“He would,” a third voice appeared, high-pitched than Diana’s and stark, “he totally would. Why are you lying to her? Tell her that Shane had cursed a demon and took his property because he told him he was too tall—”

“On second thought,” he interrupted Jen, “he would.”

Diana sighed dreamily, “how romantic. It’s kind of gross.”

“Does she know of Valentine’s day? I’m sure she’d puke on the spot,” Jen retaliated, floating next to Diana and over her shoulder. Diana shuddered, but only curled herself into her gigantic jacket.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “he is a romantic. The _worst_ kind.”

He grew quiet soon after. Not only did he exhaust his daily dose of talking about Shane, but it’d be unprofessional to gossip about said boyfriend to his coworker in front of customers.

Only a week had passed since the start of the school season, meaning there was less customers here than there would be during summer break. It was a relief, however, he was surprised to see families and friends traveling up north to spend their summer in the freezing cold. 

Ryan remembered most of his summer vacations; his mother took him to the beaches of L.A weekly, his aunt didn’t but he found his way there by himself. He grew accustomed to it, the smell of salt and the breeze hitting him in the face.

Snow? Not really. 

He’d seen snow falling before in Seattle, if he could call it that. Shane said it was ice, which was supposedly _different_. He spent the rest of his shift thinking, he wasn’t aware how much time had passed before he was being sent back to his dorm by Adam.

“Any word of the customer from last night?”

“Good news,” Adam beamed, “he’s not suing.”

“What—what would he sue us for?” Ryan stuttered, walking side by side with Adam across the resort’s room. It’d be a first to be charged by seeing a ghost.

“I’m teasing you,” he reassured, then patted Ryan’s shoulder. “Good night Ryan, I’ll pack up after you.”

“I already did,” Ryan muttered but Adam walked away. He turned to the door, opening it with his warm fingers and stepped into the frigid cold. 

The sensation of cold air filled his lungs, numbing his exposed fingertips and made his shiver on the spot. Four months here and he _still_ wasn’t used to this. Mom would have told him that it was fair, she never liked to be cold either. 

His boots stepped on the snow, even if it wasn’t an inch yet, he still felt the coolness through his socks. On the first week there, his feet had been blistered from the cold itself, purple and numb. It _hurt_ and he—

He paused, the sound of his boots stepping on the snow ceased. Except for a split second, he heard it, the sound he would have made if he was still walking.

So, there was somebody following him? It wasn’t common, there was people outside all the time, but towards the dorms? Unless Adam was playing with him, there was only him and a guard somewhere nearby. 

He couldn’t decide if he was afraid or curious, but he kept still and listened. An open field, surrounded by pine trees and street lamps. Snow fell from the sky, landing on his hair, red nose, and jacket.

The only thing he hated about the cold weather, was mistaking it from a ghost’s presence. 

He turned around, moving himself to see who was following him. He caught sight of a figure, tall and still like himself, illuminated by the street lamp above them. Ryan didn’t need a second to know who it was. 

Yet, his heart skipped a beat.

His boyfriend, who Ryan hadn’t seen in months stood there. Hands inside of his coat pocket, with his stubble across his jaw with that same blank expression from the first time they met. 

Shane Madej said nothing when Ryan locked eyes with him, and Ryan didn’t speak either. They continued to stare at one another, no words, but there was a lot spoken already. 

Ryan wanted to look badly, to stare at the transparent sword and see if it would materialize again. On the other hand, it would make everything real, he didn’t want that to happen.

“What are you doing here?” Finally, he asked, his breath visible. “How did you find me?” 

Shane blinked, he took a few steps forward without breaking eye contact but Ryan raised his hand.

“Don’t—Shane, tell me why you’re—” he swallowed, “never mind, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. For all I know you knew where I was this whole time.”

“Can you—” he trailed off, it was _Shane,_ why was it so hard to talk to him?

He didn’t look any different, he wore the same clothes, the same face, even his hair was ridiculously unkempt. It would have been a normal day for them. “Leave. I don’t want to see you here Shane.” 

Shane tried to keep himself together, Ryan saw the twitch of his month and his eyes glistened. Guilt was what he felt, then he pushed those thoughts away in case Shane heard them.

“I don’t want to see you ever again,” Ryan whispered, “leave.” No. That’s not true.

Shane bit his lip, finally looking away from him. If he had something to say, he spent too long complementing to say it—Ryan turned around then, walking even faster to his dorm.

He didn’t stop him.

Ryan kept his tears at bay, making sure he was inside of his room to _breathe._ Shane was safe. He was okay. He looked _fine_ , no injuries, no pain. It didn’t rain. He was safe and that’s all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Fuck.

Ryan knew he had it coming. How could he hide from a fucking deity? An unstoppable force of a man who knew the world like the back of his hand?

The question is: How long did he know? _Why_ didn’t he come sooner?

_Why_ didn’t Ryan let him _speak_?

His emotions threw him into a spiral and he did what he knew best. To push it all down and work his ass off; he woke up at the crack ass of dawn, jumping from his bed and stuffing his mouth with buttered toast and eggs. He moved hastily the entire morning, rearranging equipment and writing down customer’s names whilst giving them said equipment.

It was going so well—

Then why was he staring into the eyes of Shane Madej now? Currently standing on the other side of the booth, giving Ryan no other option but to ask: “What’s your shoe size?” 

Ryan knew Shane’s shoe size, teased him how no shoe in the world could fit his enormous feet and that he had to make his own—he stopped the thought when Shane winced.

Was he thinking too hard? Did it matter?

“Hey, what’s your shoe size?” He repeated, keeping up his blank expression as Diana waited for Shane’s answer. 

Shane’s eyes traveled from his to Diana, taking her in with cautious eyes before he opened his mouth. “A ten.”

Ryan held back a chuckle, that’s not his shoe size but Diana didn’t question it further and wrote it down. She frowned when she flipped the page and turned to face Ryan. “There aren't any tens here, I gotta get them from the backroom,” she addressed, then turned her head to Shane fucking Madej, “sir, may you step aside and wait a while longer? I won’t be long.”

Without another word, Diana left the brown book to Ryan and walked away. Thankfully, there were other customers behind Shane, _unfortunately_ for Ryan, he couldn’t yell at him at the top of his lungs.

Ryan narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, giving him a glare for a second and letting Shane stand at the corner of his booth. Then it clicked. He _knew_ there weren't any size tens here. 

A deity who couldn’t conjure up gold from thin air in fear of the IRS on his ass, knew there weren't any size ten boots available.

“I need to talk to you,” Shane’s voice hadn’t changed either, still that buttery smooth and hoarse sound that brought Ryan to his knees, hearing it now after four months had the same affect and Ryan _hated_ that.

“It hasn’t even been a week,” Ryan stressed, it had only been three days since Shane appeared to him, four since Jen had found him. However, Shane was never patient, when a ghost finds him, the goblin is bound to appear behind them. 

“I know—”

“Besides,” Ryan cleared his throat, he finished serving the last customer and kept himself busy by writing in their name in the brown book.

He looked up to face Shane, in all his glory, his boyfriend had a black denim jacket over his clothes, ones that Ryan had seen him wear before. An outfit that Ryan himself had, a foolish idea of buying each other matching outfits to piss off Steven. “I have nothing to say to you.” 

"I _know_ ,” Shane recoiled, leaning on the booth, an elbow holding himself up. He had his glasses on today too, which wasn’t the best idea since they began to fog up with the heat inside the resort. “You’re thinking a little too loud, bab—Ryan.”

“Sir,” Ryan ignored the slip up of the endearing nickname, “if there’s anything I can help you with, it would be my pleasure to help you. Otherwise, I cannot speak personally to you or else my boss will be angry at me. I suggest you hurry, I do have other matters to attend to.”

Shane narrowed his eyes, the same hazel that burned through Ryan’s soul during their nights together and he sighed. “We have to talk properly Ryan.”

Ryan didn’t reply, he looked behind him, staring at the endless shelves of shoes and thought how they could possibly run out of size tens.

“If you’re not willing to speak to me then that’s fine. I thought you and I were more mature than that.”

_That’s funny coming from you_ , Ryan thought.

He caught Shane’s eyes for a moment, raging indignation flickering in them. Ryan knew he was acting up, but god, how badly did he want to tell Shane to fuck off.

“Steven left for San Diego three days ago,” Shane started, suddenly turning his gaze from Ryan to the backroom’s door.

He was running out of time and he knew that, “he left to _live_ there. He’s going to start a paid internship as an assistant for a screenwriter. I know it’s not my right to ask this of you, especially now, but it would be nice for you to visit him.”

How the hell do you expect me to do that—

“You and I both know you can teleport through doors,” Shane disclosed, giving up on using his indoor voice, “if you can summon a deity, you can visit Steven in San Diego. Think of him when you’re teleporting or else you’ll end up lost in the middle of the city.”

“Here you go! A size ten!” Diana jogged from the backroom with a pair of snow boots, she dumped them on the counter and smiled. “Did he pay already?” She asked Ryan, wiping off the snow from her puffy jacket. 

“Yes,” Ryan replied automatically, Shane didn’t pay but he knew that he had no intention of staying after this. He pushed the boots to him, staring him in the eyes whilst he did so. “He did.”

Ryan wished he was an empath instead of a seeker, or at least had the power to read Shane’s mind too. That way he could see and know what Shane was thinking of him then.

The look in his eyes as he took the boots from him, smiling at Diana the way he would with every employee and turning away. He probably was thinking of a way to put the boots back without being caught, then he thought of cursing Ryan somewhere along the way. 

“Wow,” Diana sighed, “what a workout.”

Ryan couldn’t help but agree.

Visit Steven? Was Shane insane? Has his disappearance affected him that badly? How sure was he that Ryan could teleport himself through a fucking door? He was a _human_ , he couldn’t do anything of the sort.

On second thought, Shane wouldn’t ask him if he knew the risk. Shane would teleport to his side if he needed help, if he lost his way to find Steven, Shane would be there by his side, like he always was.

Ryan’s anger wasn’t targeted at Steven, not even at Kelsey. Visiting Steven wouldn’t hurt him, he could tell him where he was and what he was doing, what he should tell Kelsey so _she_ won’t worry anymore.

Steven was Ryan’s friend too and he missed him. And it's miraculous that he accepted and followed Ryan’s advice to move out, he knew that Steven would do it eventually and now that he was, it left him to ponder about visiting and talking to him.

At nine, when Adam routinely did his patrols of the booth, Ryan decided that he needed a break from the constant winter.

First, he had to find a lighter. Deleting Shane’s number from his phone sounded like a good idea in June, he didn’t think that he had to call him anytime soon. But with the risk of losing himself in San Diego, he needed to have Shane in arms reach, _just in case._  

The only way he knew _how_ was through the candle app he had. Second, he had to figure out _how_ to teleport.

“Okay,” he told himself, wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and shorts, he had to take off his mother’s scarf too, one that he had been wearing all summer. “How the hell do I do this?” 

His eyes flickered to his phone, the candle unlit and staring back at him.

Would it hurt to ask now? Yes. Yes it would. Besides, it was nine at night in San Diego, he was sure that Shane wasn’t home.

Shoving his phone into his back pocket, Ryan took a deep breath. He can do this, if he (impliedly) teleported himself and Shane to New Orleans, he could totally do this. He clutched the closet door knob, squeezing it tightly in his grip and concentrated.

He thought of Steven, his face, his smile and everything that he came to know. The times he joked with him, eating lunch with him at Tasty’s, and watching a shitty movie with him during Christmas. Everything in his mind swirled around Steven and he swung open the door. 

Ryan thought that he'll come face-to-face with a closet filled with jackets and his clothes, instead he saw the other side of a bleak apartment, in the brief opening, he _felt_ that it was warmer than the room he was currently in. He… he did it. With a worried look back to his room, he stepped into the closet, hoping that he knew how to go back. 

The first thing he noticed were the walls, vacant of any decorations and color. In the moonlight, he saw boxes around a sofa, labeled with a sharpie, _clothes, kitchen stuff, things Shane bought me_. Apart from the boxes, everything else was in order. Déjà vu overcame his senses as he thought of when he moved into his own apartment earlier in the year.

Ryan walked attentively, making sure he avoided stepping on anything as he looked for any sign of a lightswitch. He should have known that—then, when he turned a corner, he caught the sight of a door, ajar and illuminating a portion of the living room. That must be the kitchen, and from the sound of it, Steven was humming to himself over pots and pans.

He thought of scaring Steven but his excitement kept him from going stealthy and he knocked on the kitchen door. The commotion paused, and Steven himself froze in place. Ryan opened the door, squinting at the lightbulb hanging on the ceiling, “I like your apartment. Not as luxurious as Kelsey’s but it’s nice.”

Steven whirled around, dropping the frying pan in hand on the stove. His eyes rounded, “Ryan?”

Awkwardly, Ryan waved his hand. 

“Ryan? _Ryan_?” Steven wiped his mouth with his hand, “is that really you or have I gone crazy?”

“Why would you hallucinate me?” To prove his point, Ryan tapped his chest, “I’m real buddy.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Steven laughed and spirited to his side, he took Ryan into his arms and embraced him. “Oh my god, you’re really _here_! How the hell are you here?”

“Well,” Ryan shrugged, “a magician never reveals his secrets.”

Steven pulled away, keeping him close by, “So Shane? I should have _known_. Man, I’m so glad you’re okay. Where have you been? Do you know how worried we were?”

“I could only guess,” Ryan averted his eyes from Steven and looked around his kitchen. Utensils sprawled on the walnut colored counters, a box set of frying pans, opened, and a clothed bag filled with groceries next to it. “You’re eating this late?” 

“Yeah…” Steven admitted, “I only got back from work, it was… eventful.” 

“As long as you’re happy, Steven.”

“Ryan, where have you been? Did Shane visit you?” 

That perked up Ryan’s interest, “you—did Shane not know where I was?”

“No,” Steven furrowed his eyebrows at him, knowing that their conversation would last awhile, Steven turned back to his frying back and clipped the price tags on them with scissors.

“He didn’t know. The first day I was here, Brent and another weird ass man came into my apartment and supposedly—do you want eggs? That’s all I have— _supposedly_  he knew where you were." 

So Brent told him. Brent didn't have any reason to hide Ryan’s location from Shane, he would have willingly told him if he asked. But who was the weird ass guy? Was it somebody Ryan knew?

“Shane didn’t tell me who the other guy was, he is only an _acquaintance_. He erased Brent’s memories afterwards.”

Well that’s a relief. Ryan didn’t feel like explaining himself to Brent or his family that his deity boyfriend and his clairvoyant friends wanted to know where he was.

“I’m sure Shane has a good reason to keep that man away from you. All of his friends are dangerous.”

“Or dead,” Steven shuddered, scrambling the eggs in the frying pan. The smell of his would-be late dinner filled the air, making Ryan’s stomach growl at the sight. “I think we’re his only living friends.”

Ryan laughed, “you’re right.” He took a seat in one of the stools Steven had set up for himself, he prepared himself for questions Steven had but after a few minutes of silence and the sound of sizzling eggs, Ryan realized that Steven wasn’t going to ask him.

He wasn’t sure if he was trying to give him space or time to get used to him, nonetheless, Ryan was grateful that Steven would feed him first. For the next two hours, he and Steven caught up, dishes left behind as they joked and talked.

Lots of the things Steven told him were of Kelsey dragging him around L.A during the summer. Since Ryan was M.I.A, Kelsey had no choice but to bring Steven around the mall, parades, festivals, even _Disneyland_. It was fun, for the first two weeks, then Steven had to buy a new lock to Shane’s house when Kelsey tried to pick lock her way inside.

“It wasn’t all fun and games,” Steven made known, “we were looking for you too, Shane most of all.”

Ryan raised his eyebrows, “he was?”

“He was. I didn’t see him for an entire month. They fired him when he never showed up but when he came back, he used whatever,” Steven gestured his hands around, “whatever power he had to get his job back. If we’re honest, he tried to look at if it wasn’t bothering him. I know that he wanted to look for you recently, he didn’t tell me but I _knew_.”

Steven stopped talking, his tired eyes looked down to the counter, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything. I wouldn’t ask unless you want to talk about it.” 

But Ryan did feel guilty—guilty that Steven was stuck in the middle of this. If it wasn’t Shane, it was Ryan, and vice versa. Through thick and thin, Steven was there to keep them both together, and now as they were separated by an unspoken curse, Steven was kept in the dark.

“I’m working at a ski resort, Dodge Ridge,” Ryan began, “you better get yourself a pillow, this is a long one.”

 

* * *

 

Days passed since his visit to San Diego. Getting back wasn’t difficult, he thought of his room, the closet that had his coats and stepped over to Dodge Ridge at a quarter to one. Ryan had promised to call and keep in touch with Steven and Kelsey.

(Though, _she_ didn’t last a day in calling him, rambling on and on how worried and how much she missed him.) 

He hadn’t heard of Shane however, Ryan wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way. He would know from Steven himself that Ryan somehow took time from his day to see him. If Shane was proud of him, whose to say? Because he hadn’t showed his face again.

Nothing changed. His shifts remained the same, from two to nine with breaks in between, he even slept for a while in the backroom if he had the time. Yesterday though, changed him for the worst.

As expected, Diana felt feverish the entire week and because her genius idea of skipping wearing her jacket in negative three degree weather backfired. She had to stay in her dorm for the weekend.

Ryan offered to cover both of her shifts, in which he did. Feeling shitty and drained by the end of his tiring day, not only _that_ but Adam decided to keep him awake until three in the morning.

Today he woke up the same, at six o’clock, bags under his eyes and succumbing to sleep deprivation. Though, he knew if he were to stay in his dorm, he wouldn’t get any shut eye, no matter how tired he was. At night, all he could think about was Shane.

Kind of counterproductive, since he told him that he never wanted to see him again. Images of him flashed in Ryan’s mind—times where he would hug Ryan, tell him stupid jokes, sit him down and tell him of the time he conquered this, _discovered_ that.

It was all he could think about.

He missed him. And seeing him a week ago for the first time didn’t help. The urge to drop the mask he's been working with grew stronger, and he longed to run to him and apologize.

Except. He hadn’t nothing to apologize for. Why would he?

“You’re thinking too hard,” a voice spoke. Ryan heard them sit across from him, taking his untouched plate of breakfast and dug in. “Again. What’s on your mind, fella?”

“Nothing,” Ryan replied drowsily, rubbing his hands all over his face. “What time am I coming in, Adam?”

“You’re not working until four,” Adam answered, “I’m covering both the morning and two hours into your shift.” He took his time eating Ryan’s food and Ryan watched, his stomach swirled at the sight of food this early, but his mind told him other things.

He was at the point of no return here.

“I need to go back to my room,” Ryan declared, standing up sluggishly from the bench.

“Before you go, boss needs you to organize some equipment backstage,” Adam reached out for the clipboard he had, a short list was written, each objective unchecked by a small box, all of which Ryan could do in less than half and hour. “It wouldn’t take long, after that you can go to your room.”

“Cool, thanks man,” the words obscured as Ryan read them, so he looked away and tried to blink his fatigued head. This was good, he could work in silence, alone and with no Shane, no Jen, just _him_.

“Call me anytime if you want me to cover your shift, too. Bro’s out there training the kids today.” Ryan nodded his head, turning away from Adam and out of the cafeteria.

The storage room was a building connected to the ski resort but far from the dorms. It had equipment they needed as back-up, his boss had mentioned that they didn’t need it until wintertime or holidays, nobody had the key to it except for one of the guards patrolling at the time.

The entrance was a garage door, massive and a washy white, covered in ice and frozen to the touch. The guard swung the garage open for him, since nobody had the chance to come in here since July, the garage door screeched.

“Here,” the guard tossed Ryan the keys to the garage door, “close it after you’re finished and give the keys back to the new kid.” He jerked a thumb to the kid sitting on a chair, hands deep in his pockets and shaking his leg, he must have been freezing his ass off waiting for customers this early.

Ryan nodded, and walked inside of the garage. He closed it, letting it slam to the ground on its own and looked around. There were racks packed with equipment, ranging from snow boots to skis, even motorbikes and other things he hadn’t seen. It was enormous, and most of the things on the list didn't require him to use or touch anything else. 

He went to work, marking down what was in storage, how many, and the like. Most of the equipment there idle for months as it should be, reorganized in their designated spots which made Ryan’s job a lot easier. With one last thing left in his list, with the rest checked off in fifteen minutes, Ryan finally felt the extent of his exhaustion catch up with him. 

Mid-yawn, he caught something from the corner of his eye. He turned his head to said direction. There was nothing but the dull light of the light bulb hanging overhead, shadows of the boxes stacked on the other side and a table which nothing but folders and magazine holders filled with records.

Curious, Ryan shivered and pivoted to the table. Some of the folders were labeled, financial records from years ago or customer documents since 1990. Things that he didn’t need to mess with, he sat down on one of the chairs however, and let himself organize them too.

He knew he wasn’t in the right mind to think on his own, so Ryan let his body do whatever it pleased. He let out another shudder, holding his jacket closer to him and—and—and he didn’t know, he doesn’t remember. He thought that he yawned again and convinced himself that he was okay with resting his head for a while.

Right? It wasn’t bad, he was alone and his boss wasn’t expecting him to work until four, nobody would know he was in there.

Ryan rested his head on his arms, there on the table, eyelashes fluttered sulkily in the direction of the boxes and swore that he saw an apparition move but he was already closing his eyes, letting the darkness take over him. The sound of a breeze flowing into the garage served as white noise, lulling him to sleep and he trembled one more time. 

He woke up later, his eyes heavier than usual, yet, he could see that he had moved during his nap. His hand was visible now, an unhealthy colorless and blue color, curled into itself and painful to the touch. He tried to move his fingers, but he found that he physically _couldn’t_ , they were tingling. And this numbness didn’t happen spontaneously, he was freezing. 

Ryan tried to open his mouth to call out, but his voice was gone and his lips had been glued together, he was afraid that if he tried to seperate them, he would hurt himself so he had to try and alarm the guards outside. After a few muffled yells, Ryan stirred himself slowly, the tips of his hair frozen and he saw what was causing this, the garage door was opened, an inch from the ground but he could see the gap where snow had traveled inside. 

Nobody knew he was in here, they all thought he was in his _dorm_.

He had no energy, he was cold beyond comprehension and he was still tired. Though if he slept here, he would freeze to death. With everything he had, Ryan tried to wiggle his fingers with no avail, his head fell back to the table on top of his other numb arm and he tried, over and over and over again until he felt the warmth in his body disappear with every second.

That’s it. He was going to die here. He was actually going to die.

Ryan shut his eyes, his frozen eyelashes tickled his cheeks, and he kept them closed until somebody found his body there. It was a gruesome, he just hoped it wasn’t Diana or Adam. 

Fear is what he felt next, the realization of the situation caught up with him and he wiggled himself, letting the chair move with him. The table was screwed to the concrete and his hand was wrapped around one of the table's legs, unthawed and pale. He doesn’t remember doing that.

His eyes darted to the table, there had to be another way—there had to be—Shane.

Shane.

He tried to call out for Shane but with his glued lips, it only came out as a muffled sound. He yelled his name however, tried to call out for him. He heard it once before, he can—the zippo lighter! He— 

Didn’t have it anymore.

Ryan mentally swore and looked around the room, anything with a flame, his phone, a candle, a lighter, anything that he can—

There. He saw it again. The shadow from god knows how long before, it moved from one place to another in a millisecond, lurked behind a box and floating around it. It wasn’t there by accident, no, it was staring at Ryan as he was dying. That was a _thing_ that didn’t care to help Ryan in any way. No. It lured him to this. 

With a whimper, Ryan tried to wiggle his frozen fingers, still curled into a fist and reach for his phone. It had to be in his pocket somewhere, he tried this a few times, slowly turning into minutes, then longer, until he could no longer keep his eyes open. He was dying.

Shane. He was _dying_. Where was Shane?

Shane? 

_I’m sorry, Shane. Please come back to me._

 

* * *

 

Waking up later was weird. Because Ryan didn’t remember the last time he closed his eyes.

He heard nothing, his ears ringing as he tried to regain consciousness. Well, he’s alive at least. He didn’t feel as numb anymore, yet, his body shivered by instinct feeling as if he was exposed in the cold.

Ryan woke up gradually, coming to the realization that he was no longer in that storage room but in a bed, laying down on his back with covers up to his chin. His hands folded on his stomach, uncurled. He wiggled both just in case, then his toes and finally, flipped himself to the side.

He winced, it must have been a while since he used his limbs, falling asleep with him and surprised every sense of his being. He fought through it and lay on the side of the bed. Through his half-lidded eyes, he saw the familiar wall, a frame of a picture of a snowy landscape, his bedside table with his glasses and a silver watch.

Ryan frowned, that wasn’t his… whoever found him must have still be here. He blinked his eyes open and caught the sight of his desk chair, set beside his bed with a person sitting on it. Slumped over, with his hand holding him up as he slept was Shane.

The man was wearing a red plaid shirt, on top of his shoulders was his jacket acting like a blanket. He slept soundly, breathing in sync with Ryan, nothing, not even the fact that Ryan had moved disturbed him. How long has he been there? 

Ryan gawked at him, it wasn’t a coincidence that Shane chose now to come to him. He must have known that Ryan was hurt, somebody called him and he… came here to sleep next to him.

His jaw set as he kept his eyes on Shane, his boyfriend who would steal the moon for him if Ryan stole the stars for _him_. He couldn’t resist, his mouth twitched as he tried to smile but he still felt feeble, cold, and in need of sleep.

Without another thought, he joined Shane, closing his eyes and dreamt of him.

He woke up startled the second time. Taking a deep breath and sitting up on his bed, sweat trickled down his forehead as he wiped it away. His own fingers cool to the touch, whatever had scared him, he couldn’t remember but the thought had disappeared when he raised his hands up to his face.

No longer the lethal blue he remembered, back to their flourishing bronze shade. Parts of his fingers had dead skin on them, red spots from frostbite that would possibly fade away with time, he hoped.

“Ryan? Ryan,” he felt somebody sit on the edge of the bed, their arms enclosed Ryan’s thighs, setting him back down on the bed. “It’s okay, it’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” They pushed Ryan back where he was, with the covers on him up to his chin, and ran their fingers through Ryan’s greasy hair.

“It’s okay,” they whispered, a lopsided grin in Ryan’s sight now as he could clearly see. Shane loomed over him, halfway on the bed and nearly on top of him, comforting him with all he had. He ran his fingers from his hair to his cheeks, the back of Shane’s hand was warmer than him, so Ryan let him.

“Wh—” Ryan scrunched up his face, water would be nice. Like Shane understood, he straightened up and left his side only to come back with bottled water in hand. Ryan drank it like he was in the middle of a desert, thirsty and dehydrated from the cold, “why are you here?”

At that, Shane’s smile faded and he wiped his hands on his jeans. He was still wearing the plaid shirt, his hair a complete disaster, and hadn't shaved in days. “I came to see you.”

Ryan nodded, not long before terror clouded his features. “What happened?” His head hurt, throbbed inside of his skull as he crawled inside the bedsheets. Shane fidgeting and pacing his room didn’t help, trying to find the words to say in case he said something wrong.

“Your boss found you after I called asking for you,” Shane addressed, he leaned on one of the walls with a grimace. “You fell asleep and left the garage open, when they found you, you were dying of hypothermia.”

Ryan hummed, “that’s… disturbing.” What was more disturbing what that they didn’t take him to the hospital—

“You,” Shane interrupted, “you were at the resort's clinic for a day. When you woke up, we asked you if you wanted to go to Sacramento to get you to a  _real_ doctor, but you refused. You don't remember?”

"I—I don't remember that."

Shane ran his fingers through his hair, but made no effort to walk closer to him, “I wanted to take you to Sacramento but this… loud gal shouted her head off, told me to take you to your room and recover.”

“How could I say no to a hospital,” Ryan grumbled, ignoring the fact that Diana and Shane met, and she _yelled_ at him. He wished that whatever she told him in between didn’t reveal too much.

“You worried about money,” Shane frowned. It was all he said before they fell in silence, neither spoke for another few minutes, though it looked like Shane had wanted to. Ryan felt his energy depleting again, if Shane wanted to talk, he might actually pass out halfway.

“Ryan. I was scared. You—” Shane stopped himself, turning his head and shaking it, like the thought of Ryan’s death shook him to the core. “You should never do that, please. You could be angry at me, but Ryan losing you would—”

“I understand,” Ryan freed him of his punishment and leaned his head on the bed frame, the headache that formed before intensified as he stayed awake. “It won’t happen again.”

Another few minutes of silence, Shane didn’t know what to do with his hands and Ryan was _tired_ , his eyes closed. He didn’t know if Shane would stay, knowing that Ryan was going to be fine and all, so he said: “Thanks. For this. You don’t have to stay.”

“Ryan—” 

“I mean it,” Ryan continued, and gave him a mirthless laugh. “Your boss must be worried sick. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, it’s time to go back home.” 

Shane tensed, holding his breath and repeated Ryan’s words in his head until he understood. “I’m not… leaving. You can sleep but I’m not leaving.”

_Of course you’re not, I didn’t expect you to listen to me_. Ryan watched as Shane fidgeted on the spot, he wasn't in the best shape, he seemed a lot less happier since Ryan's seen him. He didn't speak, which rang alarms in Ryan's head, he knew he had questions.

“You can ask,” Ryan mused, adjusting himself further into the bed, curling up in his bedsheets. Warmth spread all over his body, engulfing him in quiet until Shane opened his mouth:

“You being here…" Shane's voice rasped, "is it a form of payback for all the times I ignored you?” 

Good question. Was it?

Whatever the answer Ryan was going to give him, would it make it change the fact that it happened? No. 

“Yes,” Ryan answered truthfully. Let him be childish to play a game, “maybe it is. I appreciate your help, if it weren’t for you, I’d be an icicle.” 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t phrase it like that.”

Ryan let out a soft laugh, then inhaled through his nose. His throat had been killing him. Somehow through his unfateful sleep, he breathed in cool, frigid air, he guessed. “It’s the truth. Again, thanks for the help, you can go now.”

“Ryan—” Shane cut himself off, he shut his mouth when Ryan relaxed inside the bedsheets, his body twisted to the side and he tried to ignore the stinging pain of his sore throat. Thankfully, Shane didn’t utter another word.

Minutes passed, or however long did, Ryan wasn’t sure. He went from and to a dizzy cycle of unconsciousness and waking up. Everytime his eyes focused in the cabin’s room, Shane had been there, sitting, pacing, or _reading_. He had been there for hours, Ryan had been out of it for hours.

When his body finally felt warmer, and his brain didn’t feel like he had drank a milkshake in a millisecond, Ryan opened his eyes and sat up.

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing Ryan heard from his boyfriend.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Ryan scowled, “why are you still cooped up in here?”

“I think it’s obvious why I’m still here,” Shane retorted and drew near to him, sitting on the bed with a distraught look on his face, “I want to be sure you’re alright, I care for you Ryan and whether you like it or not, we have to talk.”

Shane’s hand fell on the side of his bed, almost touching Ryan’s own. Paler than his, slightly longer, skinnier fingers that he had held before. Dry knuckles he caressed, veins that made Ryan cringe whenever he ran his fingers over his hand. It was _there_ and Ryan could only stare at it, as if it was art introduced at a museum.

“I will answer any of your questions,” Shane spoke over his thoughts, if he had heard, Ryan didn’t care. “I will answer all of them."

Ryan had many of them. All of them piling up in his mind, questions he asked himself for months with no answer. Now it stared him in the face, the man who could answer all of them. And he could only bring himself to ask one.

“Why?”

“I can’t… I don’t know what you mean,” Shane frowned, narrowing his eyes at Ryan.

Just… why?

Ryan wanted to know what Shane was thinking too. Why did he lie? Why was he with him? Why did he care for him of all the people he met before? Why him?

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and rubbed his nose. “Thank you Shane. Thank you for taking care of me. I’ll repay you, I promise. You can go back to L.A.”

Fuck. It hurt. Watching Shane’s expression blank out like that, eyes dull and an apparent frown on his face. What was worse, was that he didn’t fight it and stood from the bed. He smoothed down his wrinkled shirt, wordlessly picked up his wallet, watch and phone from the bedside and his jacket too. He fixed himself up before looking back at Ryan. 

Shane’s eyes weren’t opened all the way, he blinked. He was fighting back tears. “Call me if you need anything. Money, advice. Anything. I'll be available, by phone or,” he then turned his attention to his hand, he messed with them for a second and set whatever it was down next to Ryan on the bed, “the old fashioned way.”

His hand moved away, revealing the zippo lighter Ryan left behind. In the same condition as he left it months before.

“I don’t like to invade your thoughts. I know you have questions as do I, so my offer still stands as it will for a long, long time. I have waited for you for centuries, I could wait longer,” Shane informed, each word like a punch in the face, leaving Ryan bruised on the ground.

He didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t want Shane to leave.

He didn’t protest when Shane walked away from him, opening the door to his room to leave. Ryan could see the other side, the lightless living room in Shane’s house, hitting him with such nostalgia that he deemed it ridiculous.

Shane was about to leave him when he stopped, looking at the door like it had the secrets of the world and said: “Because I love you, Ryan. That’s why.”

And left his room with a soft click of his door.

 

* * *

 

Heading back to work after the events that followed was easier said than done. Ryan’s boss refused to let him work the day after Shane left, and it seemed like his co-workers agreed. They had him locked up in his room for two days, sending him meals and checking up on him every other hour.

Since Shane left, he had nothing to do. No work to distract him, every channel on the television bored him to think. He kept _thinking_.

The first day was the worst, when he woke up again, he stood and worked his atrophied muscles. He showered, got ready for the day, only to have Diana barge in and sit him down. She and her brother, Adam, companied throughout his days off for twenty minutes before returning back to their posts.

Ryan appreciated their visits. Though, it didn’t distract him from the problem at hand. 

Shane told him he loved him.

Right, and the zippo lighter still sat on the bedside table, glowered at him as he slept. It was there, a constant reminder that he could use its ability to call out for Shane anywhere, whatever he was doing, Shane would stop and teleport in front of him. All by flame.

And Ryan couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Wasn’t that what he wanted? To talk to him? Let him answer all the questions he had? To have him be honest for him? For him to love Ryan with all he had for as long as they had together? Because it wasn’t long, a healthy eighty plus years in Ryan’s book. 

Why did he want to spend a good portion of it angry at the person who loved him?

He drew out a sigh, it was Thursday, meaning he was in the middle of tossing his green beans around the plate with his fork. He had the privilege to leave his room now, where he dragged himself to eat lunch at the cafeteria with Diana.

Bless her heart for not asking or bringing up Shane in front of him, though recovering from a traumatic near-death experience, he still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he _was_ here. 

“So, when are you allowed to go back to work?” 

“Here I was… thinking that you knew,” Ryan pouted, stabbing a green bean with his fork, “I dunno. Saturday? I’d like to work the booth for a few hours before heading back.” 

He had trouble keeping himself awake, his frostbite hadn’t healed either, even if he was constantly applying his prescribed cream on it daily. Ryan knew that he wasn’t in the right mind to work for an entire day, mentally, he had to rest. He was now terrified of the idea of heading out to the backroom on his own that he had a panic attack in the middle of the resort’s resting area thinking about it. 

“Understandable,” Diana agreed, she took a drink of her blue water container, “It’s not your fault. We’re all worried about you, and the last thing we all want to do is overwork you like that again. Besides, that guy wouldn’t like that… he scolded us for letting it happen.”

“Can we not talk about him?” Ryan mumbled.

He knew the shitstorm Shane brought with him, Shane told him the details, but his boss sat him down and stated that Shane was seconds away from rashly tearing the building down, telling off anybody who didn’t think of checking on Ryan when he was missing for _five_ hours.

“I didn’t—” she bit her lip nervously, “sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up, honest. He’s just… scary.” 

“He is when he wants to be,” Ryan shrugged, “doesn’t matter. He’s not coming back anyway.”

From his precipiral, he saw Diana take a spoonful of green beans to her mouth, chewing before asking, “Is that what you really want? He… he was a mess, Bergara. The poor guy was screaming his head off but he was afraid.”

“Diana—”

“Is it what you _really_ want? If someone loved me like that, I don’t think I would,” she gathered up her plate, picked up her jacket and stood from the bench. “That’s just me.” She left after that, taking her trash and back to her shift in time for afternoon lessons.

Ryan watched her leave, suddenly no longer hungry and reached inside of his jacket pocket. He took out the zippo lighter, the one that Shane bought him as a joke then turned to something he needed every time he left his house. An old little thing that kept its color and its meaning. 

He remembered when he was leaving, he hesitated to throw it away, that would mean that it was  _real_ and he was actually leaving everything he had ever known—his new home behind.

For Shane.

Now he held the power to call out for him in his hand.

Everything they’ve been through led them both to this. Thinking about each other, making decisions that would help one and not the other, and ignoring the truth in hopes to keep the other happy. Isn’t that what Ryan was trying to avoid in the first place?

Why was he allowed to lie to Shane when he was trying to fix things?

The answer is easy. He wasn’t.

But fixing their problems isn’t easy. It wasn’t a lover's quarrel, this was a matter above the both of them. This was Shane’s life on the line and the fervent reality that he had to live through a human life worth of pain only to see Ryan die and fade away with time.

And then, who knew if they’d find each other after?

Andrew told him humans forget their memory after they drank the herbal tea he gave them, if Ryan had no other option, he’ll forget Shane and then… what then? Would this happen again? Would Ryan stumble to him and would Shane have to go through the heartbreaking truth that Ryan wouldn’t love him the same?

Ryan groaned, face-palming on the cafeteria table. Why did he have to love a deity?

But that was it, wasn’t it? He loved him.

He couldn’t control what he felt for him, he loved him and it took him _months_ to figure it out before trying to date him. And it was marvelous, the best time that he’s ever had. Kissing him, hugging him, cuddling him when nobody was looking, just the two of them and Shane’s endless list of stories that only _Ryan_ knew.

Nobody knew Shane like he did.

He was no deity. He was Shane. And Ryan loved him too.

“Fine,” Ryan hissed to himself, standing up from the cafeteria table, throwing away his tray and walked over to the resort’s entrance.

He passed the booth Diana was stationed in, she busied herself with customers who gave her their boot size. He walked by the fireplace, the couches with people sitting and conversing with each other to pass the time. He walked faster when he was outside, no longer taking his time in the snow and reached his room in record time.

He took off his jackets, scarf, hat and all before sitting down on the bed with the zippo lighter. It was something foreign to him, to see that flame in his hand after months of texting and calling. Without a second thought, he blew on the flame. Ryan inhaled the smoke that came afterwards, and before him the sight of a tall man, wearing casual clothing appeared.

Shane stood there, dazedly taking in his surroundings before looking down at Ryan. “Ryan,” he gasped out. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan tossed the lighter to the side, he stood up to lock eyes with Shane and crossed his arms around his chest. “I accept your offer. But you have to give me time.”

Shane blinked. Whatever he had been doing before, Ryan only hoped that it wasn’t something drastic but from the looks of it, Shane had his reading glasses on. Nevertheless, Shane gave himself a few seconds to recollect from the abrupt travel before answering. “Time—oh, always. Always, Ryan. Take all the time you need.”

“It would be a while,” Ryan confessed, “so you have to stay here.”

Ryan heard his own heart beat pound through his ears. In the heat of the moment, he had spoken without thinking and now Shane looked at him with a distressed look on his face. As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Shane tilted his head. 

“What?”

“I—I would appreciate you staying here,” Ryan rephrased, “or at least come to visit, anything that would… try and help… I—”

“You want me to stay?” Shane asked earnestly, he pointed at the floor. “You want me… to stay.”

“I do,” Ryan assured, “I understand that you have other things to do in L.A, if it’s not possible I would understand. I would need time otherwise to talk to you.”

“This… makes no sense, Ryan. Do you understand what you’re asking of me?” Shane's brows knitted, his voice wavered. 

“I do,” Ryan repeated, “now that I think about it—it’s asking a lot to leave L.A for me.” 

“I would do anything for you,” Shane then said, “god knows I would. But— are you sure that this would help? Where would I stay?”

“I could hide you here. Listen, you said it yourself, whatever I need, so I need you here.”

Shane’s eyes gleamed, he massaged the back of his neck, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s up to you. I’ll let you stay if you want to, I won’t kick you out or anything,” Ryan suggested, “under the condition that you’d give me time to talk to you. Just… staying far away from you a second longer, it’s hell, Shane.”

Shane rubbed his chin, scratching the stubble there until he nodded his head. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay. I’ll give you time.”

“That was embarrassingly quick,” Ryan watched Shane look around the room, he wasn’t sure as to why he was anyway, he saw it days before. “I was sure you’d think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” Shane visibly relaxed, “I don’t want to be away from you. It’s the worst feeling in the world, Ryan. Staying here would do us good.” 

_Promise?_ Ryan thought.

Shane didn’t seem to hear his thoughts, he continued to walk around. Ryan’s eyes watched as Shane took in the room and all he had. It was obvious he was here days before, Ryan saw him, talked to him.

Strange. At least he didn’t read his thoughts unwillingly, at least he still trusts him.

 

* * *

 

A week later found Ryan stationed in one of the resort’s booths. September was ending, counting the days left until October. However, the amount of customers they had daily remained in the twenties.

It wasn’t much, on weekdays they had lessons for children yet to attend school and adults on break; weekends were the hectic days. People from nearby cities (L.A included) would travel for the weekend, sometimes staying a bit longer before they returned to the warmer, traffic-filled city.

Because he was his boss’ favorite (his boss’ words not his,) Ryan had his earphones on today. Holding his head up with his hand, an earbud plugged into his right ear as he played with the other, running his finger through the white cord.

He never had an  _iPod_  growing up, he had other means of spending his money, for food and utilities. An iPod hadn't been on his  _need_ list until he turned eighteen, and even then he couldn’t afford one. 

Having a phone helped. This way he had the opportunity to listen to music whenever he pleased. Who know that he missed out on all the classics?

He had the _Goosebumps_ soundtrack on repeat after finding out _how_ to loop a playlist. Listening to music, he discovered, lowered his stress. He no longer had the need to run around during work or exhaust himself to endangering himself.

It was nice. Better.

“Man,” he heard from his left ear, the screeching, ominous tune of the soundtrack in his other ear as he watched Diana place a pair of skis on the counter. She shook herself off, letting the snow fall to the floor and took off the goggle on her face. She had deep scarlet lines above both cheekbones, flushed cheeks and nose from the cold.

Diana smiled, “steep slopes out there, you should have _seen_ it.”

“Teaching the toddlers again?” Ryan asked nonchalantly, though, he made it sound more like a statement than a question. He grinned when Diana’s shoulders sagged and rested her hand on her hip.

“Yes,” she groaned. “But they were tough ones, crawling to the highest slopes. Didn’t try to stop them, nope.”

Ryan hummed, amused and tangled his fingers around the earphone cord. “How many kids did you have to teach today?”

Diana stared at him, then sighed. “Two. But they were vicious. Trust me, Ryan, you wouldn’t have lasted a minute.”

“All children are vicious,” he told her, and for some reason his mind thought of Steven bickering with Shane as Ryan watched television. _I would know?_

Diana shrugged, taking both toddler-sized skis in her arms and walked to the side of the counter. She let herself inside, walking around behind Ryan and neatly placing her equipment back where they came from.

“I have them scheduled for Saturday,” she drawled as she worked, Ryan lowered his music to hear her better, “maybe you can come to see them. Adam could cover you. Sometimes they like to head out to lunch, you should join us this time.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, “maybe next time.”

“That’s what you said last time!” Diana barked, she pivoted over to him when he grew quiet and dropped her goggles on the counter. Her clothes of the fragrance of pine, from head to toe she was drenched snow she had to fall or kneel in to teach the toddlers. 

She looked cross with him, even if she had spent two hours with two fidgeting children. “Fine, but next _next_ time you better come. I’m heading out,” she sighed, “I’m meeting my bro to pick up equipment a town over, you wanna come?”

Ryan raised his eyebrow, “and who would watch the booth?”

“Just testing ya,” she inclined her head, her auburn hair falling past her shoulders, “see ya later Ry-guy! Don’t stay up too late! Do let me know if you change your mind about Saturday!”

Ryan had his doubts about changing his mind when she invited him. Saturday meant Shane had the afternoon off, coming back to Dodge Ridge after work and spending his day in Ryan’s room doing whatever Shane liked to do.

Diana and Adam didn't object or were suspicious whenever he asked to leave earlier, or whenever he refused to go anywhere with them. Just, Ryan didn’t like to leave him alone and if they were to make this work, it would be better if they spent time together.

Even if neither of them spoke more than two sentences.

They came into an agreement as soon as Ryan proposed the idea of Shane staying there with him. Shane packed his own duffle bag, a flimsy hazel one that laid on the edge of Ryan’s bed.

Sleeping arrangements were awkward. Both of them had experienced sleeping together obviously, but now the thought of sleeping in the same bed (with a pillow in between them) seemed intrusive and Shane took the couch to sleep.

Shane still had to work, for hours in the morning he would leave only to come back later in the day, surprising Ryan whenever he walked through his closet door with this depleted look on his face. Seeing him at the end of the day had been a relief, knowing that no matter how busy or chaotic Ryan’s day might be, Shane would walk through that closet door and greet him. 

He was tired. Ryan knew this strange arrangement was taking a toll on Shane, it required a shitton of perseverance and energy to cross between space.

(Shane said he didn’t mind. But Shane _also_ told him that it was difficult months ago.)

Gotta give him some credit, no matter how tired he was, Shane walked through that door not a second earlier or later everyday to sleep on a couch half his size and do nothing for an entire evening. The patience on that man was outstanding. Then again, he was a thousand and forty nine years old, nothing rattled him anymore it seemed. 

Still, it didn’t stop Ryan from feeling remorse. Shane was here by his own validation and the belief that being together in a room would help with their _problems_.

Yet, they didn’t make any effort to speak to one another. The idea was crumbling, and Ryan was close to the edge of giving up and telling Shane to stay in L.A and he’ll get back to him when he was ready.

God knows when that would be, considering the zero progress they were going through now. In the back of Ryan’s mind however, he liked the silence they shared, Shane in the corner reading or calling in on clients and Ryan would listen in, sometimes turn the music on his phone to a lower volume to hear Shane _talk_. 

So, that’s why he looked forward to Saturday. 

Two days of their stale routine—waking up in the morning, Shane saying goodbye to him, working all day and meeting up around five, with yet, _another_ greeting before Shane showered, changed and settled down on the desk to work until bedtime. On Saturday though, Ryan woke up in the room alone.

That galling voice in his head told him that _Shane left and he’s not coming back_ or _he never came and you imagined all of this._  He pushed them back and got ready for work, he tried not to skulk in the room too long, his eyes kept looking back to the closer door every chance they got.

Work was eventful. There had been no call or text from Shane, and Diana took her toddler students out for the day as expected. Ryan was left alone for the morning rush, the beginning of a busy weekend. The anticipation of seeing Shane didn’t disappear, and around his first morning break, he decided to head back into his room.

Once empty when he left, now had a pensive Shane, sitting at the usual desk, holding a pen in his hand. He looked up when Ryan entered the room, smiling and stood from his chair. “Hey,” he welcomed, “you out?”

“No…” Ryan responded quizzically, “I thought you had the day off?”

“Right,” Shane chuckled, a hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “I may or may have not quit my job earlier this morning.”

“You—” Ryan’s eyes widened, “what happened?”

Lots of possibilities filled Ryan’s mind, Shane lost it on a client and walked out, he lost it on his _boss_ and walked out, or he thought that the job wasn’t for him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way Ryan,” Shane raised his hands in defense, “I know I said I could teleport between planes without any repercussions, and I _can_. But like all of us in this god forsaken world, we rather stay in one place permanently.”

“Were you losing your mind or something?” Ryan locked eyes with Shane, lifting his chin and softly smiled, “maybe you already lost your mind. Quitting your job after a promotion, are you crazy?”

Shane shrugged, his mouth curled into a frown but he didn’t seem to mind that he literally _quit_ his job.

“I’ve quit my job many times. Got fired, got new ones. I’m an old, old deity, this isn’t something I think about.” The  _deity_  turned back to the desk.

Shane had always been too tall for his own good, he loomed over the puny desk with this secretive aura to him, but Ryan knew better, he knew that Shane was just passing the time reading novels.

“Okay,” Ryan gave in, he had another fifteen minutes before he had to leave and he wanted to spend most of them resting his eyes. He let out a groan when he fell back on the bed, then thought out loud, “quitting out of nowhere must have been troublesome for them.”

Shane’s mouth quirked up, without looking at Ryan, he proclaimed: “As I said before, we all rather stay in one place permanently. Preferably with the people we love.”

Those fifteen minutes were left in silence between the two, Ryan glanced at Shane a few times to catch him staring at him. Neither of them acknowledged their mutual stares and when Ryan left to station at his booth, he thought of asking Shane if he would have liked to see Diana teach the toddlers in the snow with him.

He didn’t, but he might have wanted to.

The days blurred into each other as if they were one. Finally, as Ryan healed from his accident weeks ago (physically), he had the privilege of working a full day. He declined the offer, he worked mornings now and spent his afternoon with Shane in their shared room.

Nothing changed.

If anything, their amicable silence increased and they both didn’t pass the _hey_ _bye_ stage.

It was stressful, neither of them wanted to cross boundaries (Ryan didn’t want to make Shane upset, Shane didn’t want to unsettle Ryan,) and it was getting harder to keep ignoring the fact that Shane was there to mend their relationship when really, it seemed like Shane was there as a decoration. Part of the home decor he was, for Ryan to see and remind himself that yes, they were _still_ together, talking didn’t matter. 

Except talking did matter.

And god, Ryan wanted to talk to him. He had to push out the urge to fall into Shane’s lap everytime and talk about his day, listen to what Shane had to say about it and take him out from the room.

He would plan what he would tell him and _how_ on the way back to his room. And it wouldn’t happen because the second Ryan was inside that room, he would automatically say his greeting and run into the bathroom to change. Today didn’t seem so different, he took his time to the dorms, curling into the bulky jacket and opening the door to his room.

Shane was kneeling on the ground, browsing his duffle bag and looked up when Ryan walked inside. Showing off a full-blown beard now, competing with Ryan’s own stubble, his sweater in hand. He was in the process of changing it seemed, he only had a t-shirt on. 

“Hey,” he grinned from his position on the floor before closing the duffle bag. He donned his sweater over his head, messing up his hair and he ran his fingers over them to fix it.

Ryan closed the door to his room, unsure if he should give him privacy but it looked like Shane was back to whatever he was doing before. This is the part where Ryan says _hey_ back, turning into the bathroom for the next hour and coming out to place his mother’s scarf on the coat stand and sit on the bed to surf through the channels.

Except he couldn’t say _hey_ to him, something in him told him that it wasn’t necessary.

So he turned the corner into the bathroom, only to find himself unable to move inside. He stared into that cold, unlit slump, soon to be humid with the steam from warm water.

Is this how he wanted their relationship to be? Was it worse since Ryan couldn’t bring himself to say _hey_ to his own boyfriend?

His head turned, eyes glanced at Shane sitting in the chair by the desk, who was fascinated in his book. The pages were falling off, the cover itself gone and his hand served to hold the pages as he read the ink colored words.

He looked serene. Relaxed.

“Shane,” Ryan spoke, tossing jacket on the bed and left his mother’s red scarf around his neck. “Do you want to know what I did today?”

Shane blinked, slowly closing his book and leaning forward on the chair, it screeched under his weight, “do you want to tell me?”

There it was. The anticipated, look of a patient man who was looking forward to his significant other to open up to him again, even after the lies and dishonesty that they knew, there was this man who wanted to fix it.

Only by being patient with him.

“I think I do,” Ryan avowed. His legs took him to his bed, sitting down to face his boyfriend, “It was busy today. October is in a few days. School should still be on full blast but I had to give shoes to those children, telling me that their parents decided that taking them to a ski resort would help with their education. Like how did that conversation go? _Hey wanna hit the slopes instead of multiplying_?”

Shane let out a snort, “I told you before that I’ve taken Steven out of school for a trip or two. He turned out fine,” he bragged proudly, Ryan wanted to give him a haughty look to remind him that Steven wasn’t his son.

So he did.

“I know! Can’t stop me from being proud of him,” Shane defended himself, “I’m only human.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, that never worked on him before. Shane was a human sure, but in this life he was a human with magical powers.

Knowing that Ryan wouldn’t fall for his trick, Shane gave him a toothy grin and dumped the novel with his neat little red bookmark on the desk and turned the chair around. “Alright, I’m listening. Tell me all about your day.”

Like many other days, Ryan’s time at a ski resort was spent inside and freezing. Today, he was stationed to the booth in the morning and then the guardrail later in the afternoon. Both shifts kept him on his toes, sending Diana to the back often to get more size fives and fours, Adam had to check on them sometime, making sure that his sister would be fine on her own and taking Ryan outside.

He was amazed that he could, last few times resulted in panic attacks from staying out for too long. 

“And you were okay?” Shane asked him when he told him this, “did you feel uncomfortable at any time?”

“A little,” Ryan confessed, “I didn’t get _too_ uncomfortable. I watched people ski from where I was stationed. And the album you recommended me, the _Beetlejuice_ soundtrack, helped me out.”

_Thinking of you helped, the thought of you on skis made me laugh internally._

“Brilliant movie,” Shane reminisced, “remember when it first came out. And to think, I would have been beetlejuice if I accepted that offer.”

“Right, I would have been _Edward Scissorhands_.”

“Agree to disagree,” then Shane took him time to look at Ryan, as if he were trying to see if there were any signs of injury on him. “I’m happy you’re recovering. If, at any point Ryan, you feel uneasy out there, call me or anybody else. We’re all here to help you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I was okay really,” Ryan reassured him, Shane worried about him before—before they became a couple or before they left L.A. There had been moments where Shane kept him away from anything remotely evil but had also worried for his well-being. For every penny Ryan could earn from Shane taking care of him, he could have paid his tuition by hand. “Thank you.” 

Convinced, Shane gave him a smile, wide and mischievous. “When did you get to see _Edward Scissorhands?_ I remember you telling me that you hated it.” 

“Are you interrupting me? I still have yet to tell you what Adam did.”

Shane gave him a defeated sigh, it was fair for the amount of times Ryan turned down that specific movie and called it an 'accidental horror' due to the excessive makeup. “What did he do? Is he the one who doesn’t let you sleep?”

“That’s the one,” Ryan claimed, “how’d you know that anyway?”

“Sometimes Jen is a sneaky spirit, she never shut her mouth about the things she sees when she’s here,” Shane glanced at the ceiling, “it was a month ago but it left me curious. She said Diana was nuts.”

“Yeah well, I chose my friends wisely.”

“Too close to home if you ask me,” Shane joked, “what did Adam do?”

Telling him the story of Adam covering his sister’s lessons for the day was amusing. The lesson was for children from ages of eight to fourteen, all covered by huge red jackets, hats, gloves and goggles, and from his station by the guardrail, Ryan saw how sluggishly they moved, like penguins.

(Shane laughed when he said this.)

Adam, true to his word, is one of the best ski instructors at Dodge Ridge. If not the _only_ few ski instructors, but he had a habit of falling into the snow often. At first, Ryan believed when he said it was to entertain the children.

That wasn’t the case when he saw it in person, Adam was clumsy and _loud_ when he wants to be. He’ll scream when he falls, soon turning into laughter when the children followed his lead.

“How they get shit done around here, I don’t know,” Ryan finished, shaking his head. “There was one time when Adam was looking the other way, a girl came up behind him and scared him. Diana told me that he jumped two feet off the snow. I have yet to scare him—hey, what’s that look? Are you okay?”

Shane shook his head, the distant look on his face disappeared instantly, “sorry, he sounds like somebody I once knew, I think.”

“Really?” That’s interesting. It was the first case where a human being was resurrected in Shane’s life, as far as Ryan knew of course.

“Yeah, don’t think too much into it, I’ve had my fair share of Adams,” Shane looked uncertain, “I’d like to meet him anyway.”

Ryan wasn’t going to let that go. It baffled him in a way that this Adam, _Brent’s_ _cousin_ knew Shane in his past life. The person he was, how he spoke and what he did. How long ago was it? Maybe a long time ago, maybe less.

Realizing that it wasn’t ideal to push it, Ryan kept his mouth shut and ended his illustrious tale. Laughs and jokes were thrown unwillingly, it was like they’d always spoke to each other. Without thinking about it, hours passed and Ryan stood up from the bed.

“I should shower or something, unless you got concrete proof on the infamous 1812 tornado.”

“I told you everything I know, I wasn’t there personally,” Shane argued, lifting up his novel and showing Ryan. “This book is about it Ryan! Americans had been _blind_ the entire time! Or they must have pushed the idea of the white house in flames in shame, I don’t know.” 

Ryan let out a laugh, dragging his feet over to Shane and taking the book from his hands. Like he saw it before, the book had no cover, the edge of it was titled _the unsolved truth of 1812_ , clouded words and no credible author. Ryan was careful with the bookmark stuck inside the old thing. 

“Where were you at the time? Let me guess,” he pretended to think, from his vast knowledge of Shane living during the 1800s, he must have been in: “Europe.”

Shane smirked, “maybe.”

“That doesn’t help, it was during a war. You were hiding in Vienna probably.” 

“I don’t remember,” Shane shrugged, swirling in the chair raffishly. The way he looked at Ryan had his heart flutter inside of his chest and without thinking, Ryan opened the book and sat down on Shane’s lap.

“It must have been terrifying to live in Europe during the 1800s, could you _imagine_?” Ryan laughed out loud, situating himself into Shane’s body.

He flipped through the pages in the book, making sure the saved page wasn’t left to go unnoticed. His eyes scanned the words _tornado feast_ and _war_. Three things that Shane summarized for him, “I mean, you _could_. You lived through it, I wish I could have—”

Then he froze.

His entire body tensed in realization of what he had done. He wasn’t facing Shane but he saw the confusion ridden all over his face, his arms spread over Ryan’s own body, unsure where or how to place them in case Ryan knew what he was doing. He _didn’t_ and he stood from Shane’s lap as quickly as he sat down.

“I-I—” with no explanation of what just happened, Ryan set Shane’s book down on the desk. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Shane lifted his head, arms spread and away from him, balled in a way that he thought would be useful for that situation. “That’s alright. We—you—I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Shane rose from the chair and taking the book with him, pivoting to the other side of the room and to the chocolate colored couch. Spare ruby bedsheets folded on top of one of the cushions. 

Speechless, Ryan watched him. Space was what they both needed, he guessed. They did so well today, but Ryan found himself the one who contaminated the solid boundary between them.

With Shane’s warm, lanky self in mind, he strolled into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he was done, Shane was asleep facing the couch cushions, the blankets on top of his body and his feet hanging over the couch.

Ryan wanted to tell him to sleep on the same bed with or without a pillow between them. But as for now, they’ve gotten pretty far and Ryan needed to recollect his thoughts.

What was he thinking sitting on Shane like that? Without any warning or question?

Whatever it was. Ryan was angry at himself, scared that he’d ruined everything they worked up to for hours, scared that he longed for Shane the way that he did. Scared that sitting in his lap felt like everything was normal, that they were back at Shane’s house and it was something that he was used to do.

Ryan didn’t sleep easy, insomnia eating him alive and looping the scene over in his head. He slept after telling himself that he’ll try harder, for Shane. Starting with sleeping together in a bed where Shane wouldn’t plague himself with back pain. He’ll try for the both of them, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

“Are those green beans? It isn’t Thursday!”

“Yeah,” Ryan grimaced, “Diana’s mother said that she wanted to try to change the schedule, too. Adam must have forgotten that _everything_ would change. Including the menu.”

“And right when I was getting used to the old one,” Shane jested, ate a spoonful of green beans and mash potatoes. At least he liked the food, he wasn’t one to complain when it came to home-cooked meals. He ate whatever was handed to him with no question, chicken, pork, seafood, everything went into Shane’s stomach with a smile on his face.

In the middle of the cafeteria, Ryan watched Shane stuff his face with potatoes and wondered if he ever had a home-made meal. The talk of Shane’s parents was forbidden, at least from Ryan’s point of view. Ryan wasn't fond to talk about his mother whenever somebody asked, but when he _did_ it was often initiated by himself.

Even then, it was difficult.

It didn’t stop him from contemplating. Shane must have had a father and a mother if he was conceived. Whether or not he met his real parents, raised by them or by other parents, male or female was left unanswered. 

“I have to meet Diana’s mother, she sounds like a wonderful lady. Her cooking isn’t Matilda level but it's up there.”

“You’d want to take those words back when you taste her blueberry pie,” Ryan quipped, eating his meal, “she makes it twice a month, on the tenth and the twenty-nine. With her schedule changed, I wonder how that’d turned out.”

“Blueberry pie— this woman isn’t from this world.”

“She made Diana strawberry tarts for her birthday,” Ryan beamed. “She hadn’t made one since, but they were delicious.” 

“Strawberry—are you messing with me, Bergara?”

“Do I look like the type to mess with you?” Ryan teased, “besides, if you asked nicely, I’m sure that she could fix something up for you.”

“I’m looking forward to whenever that time frame would be,” Shane gave him a diligent smile, everything about him was _patient_ and the way his eyes sparkled, he anticipated meeting Diana and Adam’s mother for her delicacies.

This made Ryan happy too, Shane was never keen on meeting new people—human beings—and would rather close himself off into isolation with the human he already knew. 

Guess they were both growing out of their skin. 

A week after their ‘first’ conversation with each other, Shane and Ryan fell into a routine that worked for the both of them. They spoke now, in the mornings they’d talk over coffee and eggs. At lunch, Shane would sneak his way into the booth with a bag of whatever it was he conjured up and when Ryan left work, Shane would be there, standing by the door to walk with him. Since they were on speaking terms, Ryan thought it would be reasonable to introduce Shane to the family. 

Diana was the first, when she caught sight of him in all his 6’4 glory, she apologized and told him that if he wanted to ski, she’d be the one to teach him. Ryan and Shane haven’t seen her other than looking through the windows, asserting her dominance at adults who paid for lessons.

It was October now, the second day into the month, and customers grew uneasy with the languid pace of the end of the year.

Some customers arrived during the weekends, but others thought that a vacation would serve them well. To prepare them for the _real_ deal in December with families and friends. Ryan understood, he basically just stood up and ran off in June when he had a schedule and a lease to renew.

Despite how busy Ryan found himself at work, Shane continued to talk to him. The topics about his departure, the curse, and the months Shane spent looking for him were inaccessible, unless they both wanted to yell or ignore the other about it. But Shane found himself to tell him the good in the months that followed.

“I’m sorry,” Shane laughed later that afternoon, he was sitting next to Ryan on one of the resorts’ couches, the navy color blended with his own plaid shirt. “I didn’t think that I’d get the promotion without some sort of manipulation or empathy.”

“Somehow I find it depressing that _you_ think you wouldn’t get a promotion without—” Ryan shrugged his shoulder, “magic or some shit you’d come up with.”

“All my powers are legitimate,” Shane insisted, acting offended. “I didn’t plan it! Niki came barging in and told me to pack my things! Your _Starry Night_ painting was out the door before I could snap my fingers.” 

Ryan let out a snort, “I knew that shop was haunted. We should go check it out.”

“And what?” Shane leaned back on the crease of the couch, “pretend we’re ghost hunters. We’ll be talking to ourselves.” 

“Ghosts are real you dimwit,” Ryan chided, he glanced over his shoulder to Jen, who was crossing her arms and leaning by the booth.

Her favorite pastime was to stare at Diana for as long as she could since Kelsey wasn’t here. “Anyway, my point is, you worked hard for that promotion so you deserve it. I hope you could get your job back and kick ass at it. But no… you rather be here.”

“With you,” Shane noted, he averted his eyes from the fireplace and locked eyes with Ryan. “I can get my job back, don’t worry. Thanks for the compliment, it feeds my ego more and more.” 

“I know,” Ryan chuckled, then leaned back so his shoulders touched Shane’s, pressing his clothed arm against his was all Ryan could do for now if he didn’t want to have a physical heart attack.

Could you imagine how warm Shane’s touch would be? Close to the fireplace, smelling like roasted marshmallows from his lotion? Jesus. “I’d praise you anytime, to feed your ego. Once you go back to work, you show ‘em who's boss.”

(The honey goes unsaid.)

“Hell yeah,” Shane stuck out the arm that was touching Ryan’s, throwing a fist into the air and cheering alongside him. After a few minutes of acting like children, their laughter subsided. Once they both recovered from their fit, Shane drew himself closer, his jaw tickling Ryan’s hair, “I would show ‘em. Don’t worry your little head.”

“You could also stop pretending that your powers are the only thing that got you where you are now. You’re smart, all that knowledge in your _big_ head got you here. You’re hardworking, and you’re an wonderful person to be around,” Ryan tilted his head and grinned, “for my benefit of course. Since— my benefit is also yours, marital energy and all that.” 

Shane’s eyes narrowed, one of his eyebrows jumped at Ryan’s words and he muttered softly. “You bastard—”

“I hope that’s not the way you speak to your loved one, it’d be a shame to call him that.” A voice spoke near them both, startling them enough to seperate and turning their heads to see who the culprit is.

Diana’s mother wasn’t tall nor was she short, but she was a woman who stood her ground wherever she went and they both rose from their seats. 

“Ma’am,” Shane greeted before Ryan could, “it’s nice to meet you. I'm Shane, Ryan's boyfriend.”

“Ah,” she smiled, “I’ve heard of you. Diana does have competition against her it seems.” She took one of her smaller hands, shaking Shane’s rather delicaly.

“I have _lots_ when I'm dating an attractive man. But if that were true, she’d win, ma’am.”

Diana’s mother laughed, her eyes crinkled as she took turns examining the both of them. She’d always smell like flour, somehow Ryan would find it on her whenever she walked into the room or spoke to him. 

“Wow, I haven’t seen a symmetrical face since my husband kicked it,” she whistled, admiring Shane’s face. Shane hovered over her, as he did to everyone in this godforsaken world, and let her do as she pleased, completely still. It wasn’t like he would talk himself out of compliments anyway, it’d boost his ego.

“You have quite the jaw on you. Remember when my John had the same when he was young. Ah, I could remember the first time I fallen in love with him, he was handsome that one. This old brain of mine  _wants_ to remember.” Diana’s mother tsked, muttering under her breath of _young faces fade with time_ when Shane decided that he’d crush Ryan’s heart in two.

“I do too,” he declared, “I remember when I knew I loved Ryan.”

Ryan sometimes felt like a cartoon when Shane was around. Skipping over flowers, holding hands, then Shane would speak and all of a sudden a piano fell on him or somebody hit him on the side of his head with a boulder, and his bruise could grow to an exaggerated size.

_Now_  was one of those times.

“Y-you do?”

“I’m sure you do!” She howled, “youngsters remember their soulmate! I’m sure he looked handsome in your eyes then.”

“Ethereal,” Shane smiled, “still does.”

_This… this has to stop. Stop._

“Love fades with time,” Diana’s mother shook her head in remorse, “it’s sad. But you hold onto it, wouldn’t you?” 

_Stop_.

They both laughed together, unaware that Ryan was on the side watching this go down.

Surreal, is how he would describe it. He was watching a movie, he was dreaming, yes, he was asleep and he'll wake up and Shane wouldn’t be talking to him like this no, he’ll only say _hey_ and move on. That, in itself, seemed like more of a nightmare than something he’d dream about. 

He didn’t interrupt as they chatted, but his brain malfunctioned halfway. When Diana’s mother pulled the both of them back into the couch. He wanted to elaborate on what Shane had said, when and _how_ did he find out he loved Ryan? Why was this an open topic to talk about anyway! When they couldn't speak about what happened this past year!

_Shane_! His mind shouted, Shane’s mouth curled but he didn’t speak, listened to Diana’s mother with such interest with whatever she had to say.

Ryan knew it was something that would bug him for days if he didn’t confront him now. Yet, when he heard them bond over sweets and desserts, he decided to let it go and chimed in on their conversation. He didn't let it bother him.

Yeah.

Until that night.

Diana’s mother held them both hostage in her care for hours until they retired for the night. They didn’t speak when they walked together, it was a particular cold evening that kept their mouths shut in order to not let the frigid air into their lungs and Ryan just wanted to get inside before he was overpowered with another panic attack.

Nothing was solved later, they took turns washing up and by the time Ryan finished in the bathroom. Shane was sound asleep, and it didn’t look like he was faking it either. He was facing Ryan’s bed this time, mouth opened and eyes shut, his slack limbs fell over the couch as he snored. 

Guess that meant Ryan would have to fight those demons on his own. The tension left him this way. He wanted to desperately know when Shane fell for him that he started imagining scenarios in his head.

Could it be when they were in London? No, Shane was too drunk to think. Could it be in New Orleans? Too soon. Could it be this year? Could it have been when they first started dating? Maybe.

One thing is for sure, it _happened_ and Shane loved him. He didn’t know why that crossed his mind but he fell asleep afterwards, a smile plastered on his face.

The next morning, as promised, Diana’s mother gathered both boys into the cafeteria at eight. Serving them a buffet of food to dig in. It helped soothe the anxiety Ryan had when he was minutes away from asking Shane:

“When did you know that you liked me?”

Over a mouthful of eggs, Shane blinked and swallowed his food. He took his damn time alright, drinking orange juice and wiping his mouth a napkin. “ _Love_ you,” he corrected.

“Oh my—  _god_ , yes love me, when? How? I want all the details.”

“Do you want them on a powerpoint presentation or an essay because baby, it’s a hefty story,” Shane laughed to himself, “look, I’d love to tell you but I also love being secretive.” 

“We’re past that,” Ryan reminded himself that it’s almost been a year since they met, any frontiers between them had been crossed the second they dated. “At least tell me when.” 

“During a holiday,” Shane answered, taking another sip of his juice, “I wrote it all down for you to read later.”

“You—” Ryan’s eyes rounded, “you wrote it _down_?”

“And you didn’t? That’s heartless.”

“Shane,” Ryan enunciated, closing his eyes. “What are you doing? Why did you tell her that last night? I thought we were on the path of _fixing_ conflicts, not starting new ones.” 

“I didn’t—” Shane's tone sobered, stopping his mannerisms in a blink of an eye. “I didn’t mean to start anything, swear. I thought we were fine.”

“How are we _fine_ if you and I can’t talk about the reason why we were four months apart?”

“I-I could see why you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, I’m _confused_ ,” Ryan told him, “I know it’s… hard for the both of us to open up but how could you be so open to other people? What are we lacking Shane?”

_Can we fix this?_

Wiping his mouth with his hand, Shane took his time thinking of a reply. His hesitation would have been a warning towards Ryan back in April, but now, he knew not to push and let him figure out a game plan. Now that they were talking at least, they should be able to _talk_ really, no jokes and no pushing each other away.

“Okay, let's go for a walk,” Shane stood, he threw his napkin on top of his unfinished breakfast. Untangling himself from the cafeteria benches had always been a sight, but now as Ryan watched every second pass by, he felt nervous. “Let’s go for a walk and talk about it.”

“Couldn’t we go back to the room?” 

“A walk,” Shane echoed, “that way we wouldn’t be able to run out the door or something.”

“One of us could run away in the open too,” Ryan countered his point, though, swung his legs over to the side and stood too. He pivoted to Shane’s side, walking leisurely beside each other towards the exit of the resort. 

“You know better than to make a scene,” Shane said, “you and I couldn’t run away fast enough in the snow. I’m not going to teleport since I’m the one answering your questions.” 

He was right. Whenever they argued it had been in public or privately, but Ryan didn’t like to be loud over something so private. At least… he couldn’t remember if he had fought vociferously with Shane in public.

They walked outside, October’s sun glaring down on them discreetly. Hints of dawn remained, part of the sky had the orange glow on the horizon. It hadn’t snowed last night or the night before, the snow from days prior littered on the ground, a full two inches at most. The pine trees, now losing what’s left of their leaves were covered in snow, and they carefully maneuvered by them instead of under, not wanting to be pelveted and crushed by frozen solid water.

Walking with Shane wasn’t a bad thing. They must have walked through all possible seasons now, from spring, when they were frustrated with the humid air and the upcoming warm temperatures to autumn, when Ryan had once threw an armful of leaves at Shane, who did nothing but throw them back with all he had.

The remaining season missing was summertime.

“Do you want me to speak first?” Ryan asked bravely when both of them were away from the clearing, away from any wandering eyes and followed at path pre-made for visitors. “Or should you?” 

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard,” Shane mused, and let out a single chuckle and shoved his hands into his pant pockets.

“Can’t run away either, you said so,” Ryan pointed out, “I could tell you why I left. I know that you’re itching to ask.”

Shane didn’t reply, he kept his head hung to the ground but it seemed like he was willing to listen. With legs like his, he often walked efficiently quicker and always in front of Ryan, it seemed like he was trying to keep his pace though, which Ryan appreciated and almost offended of his _slightly_ shorter legs.

He didn’t voice this out loud. The way Shane’s lips curved into a soft smile, he knew that he had heard him.

“I didn’t think of leaving right away,” Ryan started, taking a deep breath and thought hard, it’s been a while and he hardly remembered what he was thinking. “It’s not like I was thinking of running away the second I found out. I didn’t know what to do at the time, Andrew had me in a corner and I was _scared_. But then you came back—” Ryan trailed off, peered at the sight before him, dainty trees and a vivid sky.

“You came back and told me that whenever you cry, it rains—it wasn’t like I knew—” Shane opened his mouth to cut him off, eyebrows furrowed, but Ryan beat him to it. “Steven told me last year by accident.”

Shane closed his eyes and sighed, “I should have known. You’re smarter than we take you credit for.”

“I wouldn’t have pieced that together,” Ryan confessed, “besides the point, you comforted me the only way you knew how and I felt better, less angry, less sad, but I… I found myself stuck in a loop. I couldn’t open myself to you, so—”

“You left.” 

Ryan nodded, “I left. It took me _days_ to realize what I should do. And it was hard Shane, the hardest thing I’ve ever found myself doing. I applied for over hundreds of jobs, was turned out for most of them and walked in both in the rain and cold with nothing to keep me warm aside from my mother’s scarf, but leaving you alone without saying goodbye tore me apart.”

“You have to know—” Ryan blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes and stopped walking, he wrapped his hand around Shane’s bicep to stop him too and they locked eyes.

“You have to know that I didn’t want to. I _didn’t_. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do, I wanted to protect you from not only _them_ but from myself, too.” Ryan isn’t sure who them are, _them_ must have meant somebody in June, but now it was just _him_.

“Seeing you after months of being away—it—it broke my heart to see how distant you and I were. And it was all my fault,” Ryan’s lashes fluttered, trying his best to keep his composure and held Shane’s arms in both hands, shaking him gently. “I’m sorry for saying those things to you.”

“Ryan—” 

“I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean any of it. You and I both know that right? I would never deliberately hurt you the way I did. Just—seeing you… it was hard, big guy. My feelings for you never vanished.”

Shane’s arm moved, he stroked Ryan’s forearm and reached for his hand, squeezing it in his grip. “I understand. I couldn’t get a word out either when I saw you. All I thought about when I was on my way here was seeing you safe, when I saw that you were, I couldn’t talk.”

Ryan’s chest puffed out, taking a few shallow breaths before nodding his head. Wow, this was insanely difficult. Like he was confessing to a lost crush in the middle of a campus hallway, with no possible way of running away without looking like a complete idiot and humiliating himself.

“I have to tell you what I did,” he finally spoke. “I took what I had saved up from the bank, told my landlord I was going out of the state, I must have been driven by adrenaline. I went to Kelsey first, I told her that I was leaving I think—I think I was crying but I don’t remember,” he saw Shane frown and he squeezed his hand again, “I bought a ticket to Dodge Ridge because I remembered that Brent was there, by the time I realized what I did, I was hours away from L.A.”

“And the envelope?” Shane inquired, leaning forward to Ryan, “you left me an envelope.”

“I left that to Kelsey beforehand, It was like my body was moving on its own at the time.” 

“Ryan,” Shane began, “how sure were you that Brent would let you stay? Do you understand how dangerous is was to leave suddenly like that? Kelsey called the police when you told her you were running away.”

“I understand how bad it sounds now. I wasn’t sure if Brent was there,” Ryan admitted, he wasn’t sure about anything he did. Thankfully, Brent had prepared to leave for  for San Diego and let Ryan stay in his room for the time he was gone. The first week was the hardest, Ryan didn’t leave the room.

“I didn’t know, Brent offered his room for me and I got a job later. It wasn’t easy, I wanted to go back many, many times, but once they hired me, that went out the window.”

Shane stared at him, eyes wavering and his mouth on a tight line. He didn’t look pissed and from the aloof gleam in his eye, he was trying to imagine what Ryan had to go through. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that on your own.” 

Ryan gave him a half shrug, “I’ve been through worse.”

“Still,” Shane’s eyes softened, “would you consider coming back to L.A?”

Great question.

“I don’t know,” Ryan let go of Shane’s hand, letting Shane’s fingers caress his own jagged palm as he did. “Not when I don’t know what this curse would bring the both of us. It’s like it can’t touch us here.”

“I want to tell you everything, Ryan,” Shane’s expression blanked, “but I can’t do it all at once. It’s—it’s difficult for me too. Not only is it a long story, it is quite unpleasant and depressing, the last thing I want to do is bring down the mood even further. I could tell you—” he swallowed and licked his lips, “I can tell you what happened after.” 

By instinct, Ryan’s eyes travelled from Shane’s to the transparent sword in his chest, the hilt glowing a faint blue, a color that could crystallize before his eyes if he stared long enough. He averted his eyes and back to Shane’s, who had already turned his head and hinted that he wanted to walk. 

They both started to walk again, the cold temperatures messed with both of their movements and they walked slower than before. Step by step, Ryan had to fix his scarf time and time again before Shane did it for him, covering his nose and mouth and taking his hand in his. 

“I woke up in a meadow, the one I sent you to when I wanted to die,” Shane’s voice was distant, flat, in a robotic tone only reading what’s typed before it. “I knew that I had died. My wound from the sword, besides other injuries I had—I bled out. But I still woke up, at first I heard nothing then I heard God’s voice.”

“The things he said to me even I can’t tell you. His words would curse you too. He—he told me I couldn’t die until my betrothed removed the sword from my chest.”

“So it is true,” Ryan lamented, “I’m the one who could kill you.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Ryan. You didn’t ask for this, none of this is on you. You leaving was the best possible outcome you and I both have.”

“I’m not blaming myself,” Ryan wrinkled his nose, he pushed himself closer to his boyfriend, stealing all of his warmth. Shane let go of his hand then, wrapping his arm around Ryan’s shoulder and kept him close to him.

Deity or not, he was warm and couldn’t freeze to death. “I never blamed myself. I didn’t even blame you, that’d be cruel. Just how—how did you even know who your beloved was? How could you possibly know?” 

“You must have had your suspicions,” Shane pulled him closer, his breath tickling Ryan’s temple. “Nobody, no deity, no god, no spirit or nymph could see it. Only myself and them,” he looked down at Ryan, pressing his lips on Ryan's scrunched up forehead, the corner of his eyes, “you have been the only person I’ve met who can see it. I’m linked to you in the most devastating way.”

“Doesn’t make me like you any less,” Ryan hid himself in Shane’s coat, the urge to bawl into his chest was strong, but Shane didn’t seem like he could necessary _want_ to see that happen.

“I didn’t lie to you about that. No lover that I had could see it, and I can’t remember most of them anymore. It’s been so long since I’ve touched this topic in particular,” Shane sighed, “I never told anybody, apart from Andrew himself, about it.”

“Did he threatened you into telling him?” 

“No,” Shane squeezed him into him. “He knew about the curse from his unworthful God. I know that he threatened you too, the things I would do to that man if he tried to go near you or myself… they’re catastrophic.” 

“Don’t say that,” Ryan muttered into his chest, he felt his fingertips freeze once they were exposed to the frigid air. “The last thing we need is you recklessly hurdling yourself into danger head first.” 

“I wouldn’t endanger myself for my benefit,” Shane took his hands, seeing as Ryan began to struggle to keep them warm. “I promise that I would protect you the way you had—here,” he placed Ryan’s hands inside of his coat and covered them, “you _would_ forget your gloves.”

The side of Ryan’s mouth twitched, feeling comfortable with Shane's body heat. He paused and searched for any other questions he had. His eyes twinkled when he remembered, “is that why you were happy when I couldn’t touch the sword?”

Under his fingers, Shane tensed, his body language exposed and he straightened his back. “Yes,” he answered. “I was happy.” 

When Shane saw Ryan’s hesitation, he quickly added: “It would have meant that we weren’t soulmates, you wouldn’t have been my betrothed and you wouldn’t have the heavy task of killing me. Don’t take it the wrong way Ryan, but back then, I was happy that I would have been able to live with you.”

“We would have been happy if you told me the truth,” Ryan protested, his eyes lowered to the snow covered floor and Shane’s boots, “then again, I don’t trust my emotions to get the better of me, so it must have been best that you lied.”

“I didn’t want to. I wasn’t thinking either,” Shane emphasized, he rushed his words and dropped the wall he built for himself before this began.

Shane was crumbling with each passing second, “you came to me and it had been _centuries_ and I—I knew, Ryan that I couldn’t leave you on your own. Dating you wasn’t part of it not from the beginning, I was just trying to figure out how to ask you to kill me.”

“Did you want to die?” Ryan pulled away softly, retrieving his heated hands from Shane’s coat and stepped back a few feet. He remembered when he told Shane he saw the sword, the minute he had exposed himself as his betrothed, Shane had an open invitation to ending his life. The thought of Shane thinking that he wasn’t going to last the year with Ryan around swallowed him whole, nausea bubbled up in his stomach.

Is that what he was thinking?

“No,” Shane answered desperately. “I didn’t want to die. Ryan, I was scared because I didn’t know you or your intentions. Hell, you could have been masked as a human and sent to finally kill me. But I didn’t want to die.”

“But now you do—”

“No!” Shane snapped, interrupting him and grasping at his hair, messing up even more than it already was. A sudden breeze flew past him, waving strands of his hair over his forehead and hitting Ryan in the face, “I don’t—maybe I did before but for good reason.”

“You dying on me isn’t _good_.”

“Maybe not the way that you see it,” Shane licked his lips, “okay, _okay_. You told me, you told me—that I live in the past too much—”

“That has nothing to do with—” 

“You told me remember?” Ryan does, it was when they were in London, staring across the haunted fountain Shane loathed. “I live and think about the past and I should stop before it eats me alive.”

“Yes, Shane,” Ryan carefully watched him, he paced on the snow, dragging his feet in order to leave marks on the snow. It unnerved Ryan down to his core, it was a new side of Shane that he hadn’t seen, apart from his episode in London, this seemed like—like he was trying to find the words to say. “Shane?”

“That night your mother died, that was _me_ , Ryan,” Shane croaked, pointing at his chest with his fingers, only inches away from the sword that caused all this, too.

“It was _me_. I was upset and I was lonely and drinking _terrible_ fucking coffee because I just moved to L.A and I saw her die with you. I had to save her, but you knew all of that too right?”

“I had my suspicions,” hearing it from Shane’s mouth still hurt though.

Ryan spent many hours of his life crying over Shane saving him and his mother decades before. Now it was a closed wound, tearing at the seams as Shane continued to speak. “Where are you going with this?” 

“Once I got to know you, I realized that you didn’t know anything. Nothing about deities or grim reapers,” Shane stepped forward, everything in Ryan’s ears intensified, from the sound of Shane stepping in the snow to the distant excited yells of people in the slopes. “You couldn’t have figured out what I did.”

“Shane. _Please_ —”

“I resurrected your mother and you. I saw _everything_. Death would take one of you within nine years,” Ryan’s gasp lodged itself in his throat, he didn’t dare to release it until Shane finished, “how your mother knew she’d leave you I don’t know. _I_ knew and I still let myself do it.”

When Shane stopped talking, he didn’t hint that he would explain himself further and Ryan let go of all the emotions he had inside. He started crying first, his tears fell down his cheeks ungracefully and he tried to wipe them away, they just kept coming, replacing the old tears that feel beforehand.

_His mother_ who he loved with everything he had. The person that was a constant in his life, the only person he had in this world, somebody who protected him from the spirits he was connected to and loved him unconditionally. Who died in the hands of death because she was supposed to die years ago.

She left him to live. She chose that for him. Shane chose that for them.

“Ryan, please don’t _cry_.”

He hated the way his voice broke, tearing Ryan’s heart in two just seeing him this desperate, this _sad_. All of his resentment disappeared when Shane began to lower his head, covering his glassy eyes as much as he could.

“I’m sorry,” he mewled, lips quivering and finally, tears falling down his cheeks. If it were any colder, they would freeze. “I shouldn't have lied to you. I should have told you the truth.” 

Yes. You should have.

“It’s not excuse, I ask for your forgiveness even though I don’t deserve it.”

But don’t say that. 

“I—”

Ryan lifts his head and pressed it on Shane’s cheek, he wiped away his tears and ignored Shane flinching as if he were to hurt him. Ryan’s eyes softened, he would never hurt him and to show him, he gently cradled Shane’s nape and held him close to him.

Under his fingertips, Shane is warm and trembling, he is rather still however, apparent that he isn’t sure what to do. In the end, Shane wrapped his own arms around Ryan and proceeded to cry. 

To think that everything up to now led to Shane crying on him, staining his jacket with his tears and holding him for dear life, Ryan wouldn’t have accepted to let him stay.

He never wanted to hurt him like this; Shane didn’t deserve pain on top of the agony he endured for _centuries_.

“I forgive you, I forgive you, Shane,” Ryan repeated desperately once Shane began to let himself go limp, “please calm down, baby. We’ll talk, I won’t run away, I’ll listen to what you have to say—you’ll get sick breathing in all this cold air.”

Shane shut his mouth, Ryan knew that he did so when his crying subsided to muffled breathing. “Do you want to go inside? You can cry there if you like, whatever it is that’s wrong you can tell me.”

“How—” Shane’s voice was flat, hoarse, “how could you forgive something like this so easily?”

Because I care about you.

“You’re suffering, why would I put somebody I care for through this?”

“Didn’t you listen? I—”

“Don’t live in the past right?” Ryan swiftly interrupted, though his hands gripped Shane’s nape on their own.

He had conflicted feelings about everything currently, but he could never blame Shane. He saved him and his mother. He still gave him the gift of living and _breathing_. He spent nine wonderful years with his mother and though short, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

If it weren’t for Shane, he wouldn’t be here.

“I know you can listen to my thoughts, I give you permission to. Remember what I said. Start living _now_ and don’t let the guilt of the past haunt you,” another tear fell down Ryan’s cheek, “I forgive you. I also thank you for saving her.”

Shane let out another whimper, he hid his face into Ryan’s neck, bumping his nose with his collarbone and wailed. As he cried, Ryan continued to soothe him, running his fingers all over his hair, nape, and shoulders. He wanted to cry like him too, to tremble and shake until his legs weakened and he fell into the snow. 

“You and I need to live _now_.” He pulled Shane away to face him, narrowing his eyes at his crimson eyes, groggy and knitted eyebrows. A excruciating sight but Ryan's eyes bored into him, “no matter what, fate or destiny or _whatever_ beingwill not choose our future. We will choose our own. Only _us_ and not us and _the sword._ ”

“You messed with the cosmos to save my live,” Ryan ran his fingers across Shane’s cheek and held his face in his hands. “We can do it together now. Whatever consequence can hit us with all it has but it can’t tear us apart. Okay? I understand how hard it must be to open up to me so I’ll wait too, I’ll give you the time you need. Just promise that we’ll be together from now on?” 

Shane smiled through his tears, letting out a weak laugh and nodded his head. “Yes—yes. Yes. I want to be with you. I don’t want to leave your side. I love you. I _love_ you so much, Ryan.”

“You have to give me time to say that back to you too,” Ryan whispered, “for now. I’ll never leave your side.”

Shane nodded before he pressed Ryan into his arms, embracing him and Ryan let himself cry this time like him. They held each other there, covering their mouths from the cold breeze. The sun fading from of the sky, clouds rolling in and down on them, marking a new phase in their relationship and _rain_ for Dodge Ridge.

The next morning, Ryan woke Shane up around seven as he usually would. They get ready together, no longer taking turns to brush their teeth but still give each other as much privacy as they’re offered. Shane didn’t stop crying for the rest of the day yesterday until they were back in the room, his eyes eased but he had sneaked in a few tears.

So Ryan let him to it. It wouldn't do Shane any good if he bottled his emotions inside. He showered last, taking his time was always Shane’s specialty. Ryan let him do that too and walked out of the room and returned in record time to see Shane shrugging on his jacket.

“Hey,” he rose his eyebrow, “was wondering where you went.”

“I went to get you this,” Ryan raised the piping hot coffee he had in his hand, warmth from the coffee cup tingled Ryan’s fingers. He gave it to Shane with a grin, and took a sip of his own. “I told Diana’s mother to make it for us. I know how much you love coffee or any drink in fact so take it as an offering!”

“An offering?” Shane asked as he took a sip himself, he winced at the hot drink and wrinkled his nose as he burned his tongue.

Funny, a deity who could shift mountains burning his tongue with coffee.

“Yeah. Didn’t you say you were drinking coffee the night you resurrected my mother?” Ryan clicked his tongue, shaking his head and closed his eyes. “I’m sure you weren’t used to coffee in _Los Angeles_. I’m sure this is better right?”

Shane stared at him. He just stared, he must have blinked once before he set his coffee down on the desk and took Ryan's. “Can I kiss you Ryan?”

“What is this? Are you asking now? Have we gone back to that stage now?” Ryan placed his hand on Shane’s neck anyway, leaning himself forward and captured his boyfriend’s lips in a searing kiss. He tasted of toothpaste and coffee, a complete opposite of the first time they’ve kissed months before and still, Ryan couldn’t get enough of it.

Shane laughed into his lips, his teeth clashing with Ryan’s lips as he did. He shook his head when Ryan asked him if something was up, then kissed him again, opening his mouth to deepen their kiss. 

It was a kiss that told Ryan that he must have _really_ liked the coffee.

 

* * *

** PART II **

“ _What_!?”

“Don’t yell,” Ryan scolded, throwing a set of skis on the counter. He bent down and picked up the sponge he used to scrub them. “You never know if anybody can hear you.” 

“How can you tell me not to yell! I leave for a few days and you’re both boyfriends again!” 

“We were always boyfriends,” Ryan ran the dry sponge over the skis, digging for the spots where the snow would crystallize. “We never broke up.”

 Jen raised her arms into the air, letting out another melodramatic groan. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe I wasn’t _here_ to witness this.”

“Well, it wasn’t like we were making up in front of an audience,” he handed her the sponge, watched as it blended with her aura and materialized in her hand. He tilted his head to the skis as if to say _scrub the skis_ and he walked away to grab the disinfectant. Ryan had found that she could do this yesterday night, unfortunately.

Now as it was October, customers came in with soiled, ice-clogged skis to clean and keep in storage for December. It was great to have customers drop off their skis, but since _Adam_ the one who _cleans_ them has lessons to tend to, it was only him and Jen tending to frozen ski boots.

Jen scrubbed and paused, Ryan heard her chuckle, “goblin must be head over heels to open himself up for you. I hear that he’s never done that before.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, smiling and taking the bucket filled with tepid water by the handle. “Now where did you hear that, a vengeful spirit?” 

“I don't know,” Jen wrinkled her nose and dipped the sponge in the warm water, rinsing it above the bucket before turning back to the skis. “Whoever it was. They weren’t nice.”

Ryan mentally noted to look more into it.

Obviously, lots of ghosts that he’s encountered (not counting Daysha and Maycie) knew of Shane and his self-contained reputation. There _was_ ghosts who held grudges against him, deities and grim reapers combined. But as clueless as Jen was (and himself too) towards the paranormal, any possible supernatural entity was a ghost, and _only_ a ghost. Now that Ryan met Andrew, he knew that wasn’t the case.

He turned his eyes from the water bucket to Jen, annoyed from a mucky spot on the ski boots and cursed every time she scrubbed. A year ago, she wouldn’t be able to do this, must less touch anything around her. Now he was staring at her as she washed a pair of skis in the booth of the ski resort.

Anything is possible?

“Looking pensive as usual I see,” a voice beside him said and he jumped, pushing away all thoughts and turned his head over to them.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Ryan shook his head spryly at Shane, “what the hell are you wearing?”

“I hope not. And this?” Shane beamed, teeth and all, he ducked his head to see the paint-stained jumpsuit he wore.

It was gray by default, but by the time Shane was done with it, he was surrounded by vibrant colors of red, gold, and green. “Steven needed my help painting a banner. Couldn’t tell you how many extracurricular activities he signed up for in the past month. I’m so proud.”

“Me too,” Ryan mused, “that little dickhead has more freetime than me. He takes it from his uncle.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Shane then looked over to Jen, who was finished with cleaning the skis and leaned on the counter with the sponge in hand. “Maybe you too, are you making your ghost companions do your job for you? _Ryan_.”

“She offered.”

“I offered,” Jen echoed Ryan’s words, “I never had a job before and since I’m half-human now, I deserve to pretend that I have one.”

Ryan expected a sly quirk from Shane, maybe a joke or two about how _dead_ she was, instead, he was taken back to hear: “Can you eat too? Do you want a cookie?”

He reached for one of the pockets on his distastefully hideous jumpsuit and took out a ziplock bag filled with sugar cookies. “Steven’s friend made them for us, I’m sure you’re starving.”

“Cookies!” Jen rejoiced, taking the bag in her hand, “I haven’t had them in years! Do you think I can eat them?” Without waiting for anybody to answer her hypothetical question, she reached inside the bag and took hold of one of the cookies. Ryan’s eyes widened as they blended with her too, turning into what he could only explain as a spirit cookie and she took a bite. 

With cookie crumbs falling out of her mouth, Jen’s own pair of eyes rounded in surprise. “I can taste it!”

She babbled around the cookie, bits of it fell to the floor and Ryan turned around to see Shane. He was smiling, amused to see her eating and Ryan felt bad for thinking that he must have laced the cookies himself.

“My jumpsuit isn’t ugly by the way,” Shane objected, “I was a janitor before. I think that’s where this is from.” 

“It’s atrocious,” Ryan replied earnestly. He heard Jen munch away next to him, he waited a few more seconds for any negative reactions but it seemed like she was happier. “The cookies?” 

“Are real,” Shane shoved his hands inside one of the jumpsuit pockets, “Steven introduced me to his friend, she specifically gave me an enormous amount of cookies,” he took out another ziplock bag of cookies, this time they were golden brown, chunkier than the sugar cookies and he tossed them to Jen’s direction when she ate all of them. “Suspicious?”

“Not at all. Let Steven date a baker for all of our benefit,” Ryan took one of the cookies and savored every bite. As it’s been a few weeks since he worked out, it didn’t help that he was eating over his limit with Diana’s mother’s cooking and the ziplock bags of cookies Shane had.

“When do you get off work? Sorry,” Shane rephrased, “when do the both of you get off work?”

“Funny,” Ryan didn’t laugh, “I still have another pair of skis to clean but after Jen’s finished with them, I’ll be good to go. Why?”

“I want to go on a date with you,” Shane crooned, he pinched a side of the oversized jumpsuit he wore. “After I change and shower, did you know it looks like autumn in San Diego already? It’s kind of a doozy coming back here to see mountains of snow.”

“Autumn started weeks ago, I’ll be concerned if it didn’t,” Ryan asserted, then paused, “wait. A date?”

“Yes. We haven’t had one and there’s a restaurant in front of Steven’s job that caught my eye. They sell pork chops there.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ryan told him, he took hold of the skis boots Jen washed and turned himself to the shelves behind him.

Diana organized the skis in the way that she knew how, by color and size. He had a difficult time finding skis back there for customers, but most of the time _she_ would be the one to do it anyway. He heard Jen speak to Shane and he tensed. He didn't look in their direction but he heard Shane laugh out loud, his shoulders normally sagged. 

Shane was diligent with Jen, he didn’t glare at her anymore nor did he tease her the way that he used to. Ryan didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t much of a ghost anymore or if he was just warming up to her presence.

Jen felt the same too, she was calmer and no longer jumped whenever he showed up. Shane offered her cookies! What a eccentric development, especially from Shane who wouldn’t bat an eye at a human, ghost or deity.

Ryan’s chest filled with happiness, excitement and anxiety. For one, he liked this new side of Shane, a happier, chill man who talked to others with enthusiasm other than Ryan. Rebuilding their relationship would take time; it’s been days since they spoke in the middle of that path, and it’s been pushed back to the back of their minds so they could move on with their lives. 

Ryan busied himself with work as Shane met with Steven in San Diego. Their days will blur with a few chances to see each other before they met in their room and slept for the night. Like he promised, Shane would always come back from wherever he went.

That being said, Ryan didn’t know if he was ready to leave Dodge Ridge. He’d done it to see Steven, but he wasn’t out in public, only Steven’s homely apartment.

The thought of going to San Diego and eating dinner there with Shane—like they used to—it made him nervous. He didn’t know why, the thought of being alone with Shane other than in his room or the cafeteria made him think that everything was like it used to be in L.A

But nothing could go back the way it was.

Steven was out of the house, Kelsey would offer his job back but it would be impossible since she had a full staff. He didn’t have an apartment opened for him. His aunt and cousins were gone. Brent was gone too. Things were changing. His life was changing. And he didn’t know if he was ready to face it yet.

Sure, call him hypocritical for living in the past himself when he basically shook Shane out of that mentality. But it was the steadfast life he knew, it was what he referred to as home.

Now, as he thought about it, he understood Shane’s reluctance to open himself up to new people only to watch what he worked hard for crumble in front of his eyes. 

“Hey Shane?” He called out to his boyfriend, Shane looked up from Jen, eyes squinted from laughter. “Pork chops are good. I’m sold.”

“I didn’t think you weren’t,” he quipped and smiled. “I'll go change, I’ll meet you there— or do you want me to come back for you?”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going back to sunny, warm weather like this,” he gestured to his own clothes, a red jacket zipped from his hips to his neck. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing shorts again.”

“Incredible,” Jen admired, gorging another cookie into her mouth, “it’s like nothing changed between the both of you, great. It’s good!”

“You know what’s better?” Ryan pivoted to the counter where she was, bending down and taking another pair of ski boots, worse than the last. “It’s time for another set. Scrub up Jen, this customer wants them spotless and shiny.”

“Tell ‘em a ghost cleaned their booties,” she squeezed the sponge. “Bet they never heard that one before.”

It took Jen fifteen minutes to clean the ski boots. To please her, Ryan won’t mention the mistakes she made (her hand phasing through the shoe or scrubbing the spot for minutes before realizing it was part of the design.)

When Ryan packed everything up, he walked to his room and found a shaven, ready for San Diego Shane sitting on the desk chair browsing through his phone.

“Hey man,” Ryan greeted, closing the door behind him and shrugging off his coat.

“Hey _man_ he says,” Shane grumbled without looking away from his phone. “Does he not know I am his boyfriend? His loving boyfriend who is currently setting up a table for them at the restaurant I’m taking him to and he calls me _man.”_

“Sorry, I’ll try to come up with better pet names. How does bighead sound?” Ryan dodged the pillow hurdled at his direction, slamming itself onto the wall behind him as he sneaked into the bathroom.

A half hour later found Ryan and Shane walking through the closet door and to what he knew to be San Diego. Teleporting... with practice was less absurd but the vertigo was still there. The tingling sensation buzzed through Ryan’s body and he had to force himself to keep his nausea at a minimum. 

Every time he did this, he closed his eyes automatically and opened them at his selected destination. Though, it seemed like every time he teleported with Shane (apart from the short visit he took by himself) a glimpse of _something_  flashed through his eyelids.

This time it was Shane again, he didn’t look any different. With a beard, glasses, his green loose shirt tucked inside of his pants. He was sitting on a booth Ryan’s seen before, reading a plastic menu of some kind. He held his head up with his hand and the second he opened his mouth, Ryan’s eyes opened.

“You okay?”

Was he?

“Yeah,” Ryan answered, Shane’s hand clasped his, balancing him as best as he could.

Strange. Usually after he saw—what he would call a _vision_ of Shane from the past—he'll feel dreadfully exhausted. He didn’t feel anything other than… comfortable? Is it because Shane was relaxed? Where was he? New Orleans? Judging from his outfit and the setting he might as well had been.

“Where did we end up?” He asked, already sensing the vision he saw fading away.

“We’re in San Diego,” Shane’s voice was nearby, like he was holding Ryan beside him. He must of been, Ryan had trouble with walking the first few minutes. “Teleported through a clothing shop.”

“And where’s the restaurant?” Ryan’s head dipped backwards, hitting Shane’s chest with the back of his head.

“A few feet away, baby.”

“Alright,” Ryan shut his eyes, “give me a second.”

“I knew this would happen,” Shane laughed, devilry glowed in his eyes as he massaged Ryan’s temples with his fingers. “That’s why I sent us both close to a resting area. Do you want to sit down?” 

“You’re so thoughtful,” Ryan whined, frustrated that his harrowing, short-lived migraine would fade and he’ll have to deal with Shane’s kindness.

“I try my best,” Shane held onto him, his fingers stopped stroking his scalp for a moment, “come on, we’ll sit for a few minutes.”

“No no it’s okay. I’m okay,” Ryan convinced himself that he was better, at least to stand on his own. “Lead the way to the restaurant, I’ll feel like a new man once we’re there.”

“I hope not. I like you just the way you are,” Shane took his hand in his, “it’s not far, hold onto me if you feel like you’re about to fall.”

_I look like I’m wasted_ _at four in the afternoon,_ he thought to himself. Beside him, Shane let out a giggle, lifted their intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles.

San Diego didn’t fall back on scenery. If Los Angeles was as colorful as it could get, San Diego was it's identical twin. The street they walked through was vibrant, hues of pastels colored the buildings, palm trees stood high, reaching for the azure sky.

By the structure alone, it was a mall. Stores surrounded them with logos of brands that he knew and couldn’t afford even if he wanted to. (It didn’t stop him from taking a mental picture of the shoes he saw through a window. Christmas was in two months. He wanted those shoes.) 

Steven worked as an intern at the building across the street, a skyscraper of a place that would put Shane’s company to shame. Shane told him that Steven didn’t live far away from his job, which meant that he was truly living out a dream. The apartment must have cost a fortune.

The restaurant was even better. Despite wearing a pair of khaki shorts and an old white shirt, the restaurant resonated with elegance from the decoration to the food, with a quaint, casual atmosphere.

“I have a question to ask you,” Ryan spoke when they were seated outside, in a table for two with the view of San Diego. 

Shane took a sip of his beer, “ask away.”

“Did you ever own a green shirt? I _mean_ ,” Ryan rolled his eyes at Shane when he laughed, “green, loose. Often wore it tucked under your pants? Could have there been a pocket on the right side.” 

“I must have, Ryan. I wore every color invented.”

“Don't you have a memory of this particular shirt? Like… holding a menu? Sitting at a restaurant? You had a beard.” 

“Ah,” Shane’s face lit up, “my favorite shirt in New Orleans. Lost that poor thing somewhere in transit. You’re thinking of Cajun’s, I wore that shirt often.” 

“That’s what I saw!”

“On our way here?” Shane raised his eyebrow, “strange. Even I barely remembered. What do you reckon these _looks_ into the past mean?”

Ryan shrugged, “hell if I know.”

He didn’t care if they had meaning to them everytime Ryan came through, it was pointless to debunk them anyway since he lost track of each one. It was pleasing to his eye, seeing Shane in different phases of his life, angry or not.

“Do you want to know the lore behind what you saw?”

Ryan’s mouth curled into a smile, nodding his head. Sometimes when Shane speaks, his hands move with each word he uttered out. Linking both his voice and his body together, catching the attention of whoever he was speaking to. Because of him, Ryan found himself doing the same.

Shane told him the story of the time he ate lunch at Cajun’s, the week he moved to New Orleans. The first time he ate jambalaya with Matilda and spoke with her for hours about it. He heard jazz somewhere in there too, and danced without a care in the world. He said he was happy, relaxed.

“Relaxed,” Ryan repeated, wiping his hands on a white napkin. Hearing Shane talk as he ate was his favorite past time, in fact he could say that he felt relaxed too.

“I wore that shirt a lot. Most of the time I was happy when I did. Kind of wish I had it on now.” 

“And use it like a mood ring?”

“Yeah, green means happy.”

“You’re wearing brown now, what does that stand for?”

“Happy. All the colors I wear means that I’m happy when I’m with you.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later found Ryan digging through the brown book around eleven in the morning. Every page was filled, either with red or black pen marks, with phone numbers and names of customers.

Today was the last day of the week, October 7th, marking the final page of the brown book. Poor thing’s been through the wringer, now it was time to put it in its place after Ryan wrote down a few customer's names and then it’s time to move on to the _yellow_ book.

“It’s a hideous color,” Diana grimaced, rubbing her nose and sniffed. “Looked like it was the only available book in the town Adam scavenged.”

“Scavenged,” Ryan took the book from her hands, “you make it sound like he went out adventuring. Should I use it for today?”

“Did you write in the brown book already?” Ryan nodded, and she added: “rather not. Finish it and then use the yellow one. Don’t get mixed up that way.”

“Got it.” 

“Also I’m covering Adam’s lessons for the afternoon, you’ll be alone for now,” she disclosed, she leaned her elbow on the counter, mimicking a person trying to order a drink at a bar. “You’ll be fine, I’m sure.” 

“Shane’s coming over around three for lunch,” he told her. “I won’t be alone.” 

“Interesting, both of you on better terms now?”

“Maybe better than we were when we first started dating,” Ryan’s eyes focused behind Diana, a shadow shorter than her floated, unmoving and with crossed arms around their chest. Ah, so Jen’s here to help. “Don’t hold that against me. He’s a nice guy, maybe you’ll see him before you leave.”

Jen found amusement to this and held her hands close to her mouth, “he’s reading _Pride and Prejudice_ in one of your guardrails,” she whispered in Diana’s ear, when Diana shivered, she backed off. “He’s having the time of his life.”

How Shane doesn’t freeze to death when he’s out in the snow, Ryan doesn’t know. He’s been reading that book since Ryan bought it for _them_ in San Diego. Fuck knows if he’ll get a chance to read it too.

“It’s kind of cold in here,” Diana trembled, “or I must be coming down with something else too… I’d like to meet Shane properly, both times that I’ve seen him I either yelled or cowardly ran away.”

“He doesn’t mind, trust me,” and because he was feeling brave and lazy, he let Jen float next to him and take the pen he was holding in her hand.

Jen’s helpful too, she actually loved to work on his behalf. Usually, he’s not one to let others do his job for him because he had a specific way of finishing tasks, but Jen’s been doing well.

She can control her newfound ‘powers’ now; whenever she wants to touch something she will, whenever she wants to hide and deem herself invisible to other she will. It’s amazing seeing it in action, Shane had joked that she graduated from ghost to poltergeist, and she held that title proudly.

“He doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge.”

That made Ryan and Jen lock eyes, mutually disagreeing with Diana. Shane was _definitely_ the one to hold a grudge, especially since he was a thousand and _fifty_  years old (Shane told him so,) he had lots of resentment in that tall body of his.

With Jen and Diana by his side, his morning shift advanced swiftly. Saturday was one of the busiest days of the week so he kept himself busy writing down customer’s names and leaving Diana (and Jen occasionally fooling around) to the shelves behind him. At a quarter to four, Diana began to pack up herself to leave, only to bump into the chest of a deity holding _Pride and Prejudice_ in his hand.

“I’ll let you off this time,” Diana jokingly warned her neck raised upwards to see his face. “I won’t be so forgiving next time.” 

“Sorry,” Shane apologized for her, then held the book up to show Ryan. “I finished it.”

“It’s been two days.”

“It’s not a long book, Ryan,” he tossed it on the counter, the poor thing was used, it’s cover off its hinges.

“I know, that’s why I said it’s been _two_ days,” Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, “the librarian said somebody could finish it in three hours.”

“I like to take notes,” Shane justified, “and I kept getting distracted. I thought a lot about you and—” he pointed at Diana, leaning on the counter like she did hours ago, “your cousin teaching the children how to ski is sight to see. It was like I paid to see it happen, got a few laughs in. Overall, wonderful performance, tell him I’ll watch it again.” 

Diana laughed joyfully, “I’ll let him know! I’m glad you find him amusing in some way, Adam’s—wait, cousin?”

“Yeah,” Shane raised his eyebrow, “Brent was out there today. You didn’t know?”

“Brent is here?” Ryan exclaimed, at the same time, Diana shouted out Brent’s name like it was a swear word. “What is he doing here?”

“Cousin Angie must be healthy now,” Diana pondered, running her fingers over her cheeks, “mom didn’t tell me anything. Brent is a disaster, those poor kids must have had a blast seeing him fall constantly.” 

“Of course you find it hilarious to see Brent fall a few times,” Ryan told Shane, “yet, the both of you would team up on me whenever you can.”

“If it was you instead of Brent I would still laugh,” Shane reassured teasingly, “besides, I said that I was thinking of you all day.”

Ryan locked eyes with Diana, giving her a heads up that Shane was always like this and he wasn’t going to stop. “Totally went over my head, I was a _little_ bit more curious about Brent being here than that.” 

Shane’s smile disappeared momentarily, he tilted her head back to see Ryan, his eyes showing no sign of the same amusement he came in with. “I’ll make sure to stop mentioning him. Do you want me to be jealous?”

“Grow up,” Ryan turned back to Diana, “you can go ahead, I’ll be fine here. Shane won’t leave unless I ask him to.” 

“That’s not true,” Shane straightened up, he also looked at her direction, “that’s not true, don’t listen to him, he’s angry that I laughed at his friend.” 

“Hearing the both of your bicker gives me a headache,” Diana told them both, she threw a set of keys in Ryan’s direction who caught him in a split second. “Close the stand around eight, Adam would be here I think.”

Trying to get Shane to leave deemed it as a challenge (it wouldn’t happen _now_ since Ryan basically called him out before,) and he stationed himself on the edge of the booth for the rest of Ryan’s shift. He leaned on the wall and talked to him, except customers kept Ryan busy and Shane had only gotten a few words in.

“How was the book, big guy?” Ryan finally took the chance to change the topic back to _Pride and Prejudice_ when his customer left. It was ten minutes after eight, Adam would be here soon enough to take over for the rest of the night, but for now, Ryan closed the stand. Jen had left hours before, leaving him alone with the walking beanstalk.

Shane’s smile returned, “It was as good as the other thirteen times I read it,” he claimed, “though this time around, I did have a hard time. It’s a bit depressing when you know what happens in a book, especially one that you’ve read before.”

“Only _you_ have this problem,” Ryan shook his head, he walked around the counter and to Shane’s side. Briefly, he raised his face to press a short peck on Shane’s cheek, “if you weren’t this stubborn, you would have left to the room already.”

“It’s your fault,” Shane confessed, “I no longer do what you tell me to do. I like to see you work anyway, moving skis, writing names, fun.”

“It’s your call,” Ryan lightly shrugged, in his hand he waved the yellow book—filled with names of customers who are and will be skiing down the slopes until nine. “Should we eat before we go back to the room—”

“Sorry I’m late!” Adam came running through the doors, frowning at the countless customers walking in behind him, “I had to help Brent, did you know he was here, I sure fuckin’ didn’t,” he jogged to the booth, taking both the keys and yellow book from Ryan’s grasp. “Thanks for waiting,” 

“You’re always late…” Ryan mumbled, he let Adam set up his post to attend to the customers already lining up. Ryan hated to ask, but it would be uncourteous of him _not_ to. “Do you need anything else before I head out?”

“Actually, I would say yes—but—” Adam’s face twisted, he pursed his lips and looked at Shane behind Ryan. He froze on the spot but Ryan knew immediately what it was. “There are a few items left in the backroom that bossman wanted you to check on.” 

“Oh.”

“You—” Adam retaliated, “you don’t have to do it! I’ll do it after I help a few customers. Have a nice night, Ryan,” Adam nodded in Shane’s direction too, “you too, Shane.”

If Shane was unreasonable by standing around his booth for hours, Ryan’s his equal, and couldn’t close his mouth fast enough. “I’ll do it.”

“Ryan,” both Adam and Shane voiced, he knew what they would say.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, it didn’t take me long last time.” Shane was behind him but he knew that he flinched at his poor choice of words. 

“If you’re sure,” Adam takes out a set of keys from his jacket, “here’s the key, the guard _should_ be there all night. Nobody is allowed to go alone, you have to take Shane with you. The list is on the desk.”

If that helped Adam feel less jittery about sending him out, that’s fine, because Shane wasn’t going to let him go alone anyway. Knowing that he was right, Ryan glanced over to Shane.

While he was the only person who had seen Ryan at his worst, Ryan had faith in himself that he would finish the task at hand this time. It’s been a little over a month since the incident, he still hadn’t been allowed to go in the backroom but his boss had implanted rules and regulations related to his accident.

Nobody was to be left alone in the backroom, the guard was said to check on the backroom every hour or so for anybody. Once you were sent there, you were expected to leave within thirty minutes. The rules lessened Ryan’s initial fear of the backroom, he was convinced that he was ready to face what he dreaded. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Shane whispered to him once they stood in front of the garage door, he looked at the guard, standing on the other side then back to him, “you could go back to our room and I’ll finish up here.”

_Our_ room, he says.

“Brave of you to think that I’ll leave you here alone,” Ryan took the rightful key for the garage door, pushing down the heavy feeling of déjà vu and opened the garage with a flair. Security at the resort had investigated Ryan’s incident (a procedure that eliminated any foul play,) and concluded that it wasn’t Ryan’s fault but the garage door, froze itself a few inches off the ground.

“I’m okay,” Ryan promised, more so to himself as he stared at the backroom. In the darkness, it had the peculiar aura he felt before, as if somebody loomed over you while you worked. The desk was moved closer to the garage door, unscrewed and a lot more organized than Ryan remembered.

Shane grew quiet, and Ryan took it as an open window to hurry up and finish. The list was shorter than the one he was given a month prior, of course. He was instructed to move a few sets of skis to a different shelves and to label them, if he ignored his counterpart worryingly watching him from the desk, he would finish in ten minutes tops. 

Key word: would.

The first three minutes were fine, he found the skis in question with ease and moved them with Shane’s help over to the companion shelf. He must have labeled two of them before he began to feel woozy, the words he read spun and clouded in his head and to avoid any mistakes by non-removable sharpie, Ryan stepped back. 

Once he did though, he bumped into the shelf behind him and he instantly turned around. Like a light switched turned on in his head, Ryan’s eyes widened as he saw the rack he worked on a month ago. The ski boots he set on the shelves left untouched, the motorbikes, one of them missing from its siblings, stationed there too. Like… nothing was out of place.

It must have been the short amount of time since he was there, but he started to sweat. His chest moving in rapid breaths as he tried to regain control of his mind.

It was playing tricks on him, he knew. He _knew_. And it was working. The cold temperature and his visible breath didn’t help, closed him in a cage as if he were a bird, and he knew that if he looked down to his hands, they’d be covered in blisters and frostbite. 

Suddenly, he felt himself being manhandled, pushed into a warm, hard surface and his surroundings dimmed. He saw the outline of a coat before he felt his legs move on their own.

Somebody was speaking, they spoke close to their ear and without him noticing, Ryan felt the breeze outside after. It freaked him out that he tried shoving the person away from him and _run_ because he was _locked_ inside the backroom again—but they held him.

“Ryan, it’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe on my neck if you have to, it’s _me_. We’re outside,” he heard, at their command, Ryan inhaled, taking in the cologne he knew.

Shane. Shane was holding him, he took him outside. Shane was holding him. Shane was there with him. 

In a daze, Ryan kept track of his breathing, trying to steady it as best as he could before he heard Shane speak again. It was like he was talking to somebody else though, and not long after Ryan felt his legs moving. It was a blur in his head, like a film or a moving picture, he had no recollection or thought other than _move your legs to avoid falling to the ground._  

Hitting him like a truck, Ryan opened his eyes and saw what he thought was the entrance to the dorm’s lobby. Shane was holding him by the shoulders, keeping him as close to him as he possibly could. Ryan lifted his chin to see him, underfoot, Shane looked absolutely puzzled, furrowed eyebrows and expressionless.

Ryan blinked, twice, and before he knew it, he was looking at Shane from the inside of their shared room. Shane let out a exasperated sigh, at the same time Ryan heard him shuffle through his coats, removing all of them from… no, he was removing Ryan’s coat, his scarf and his gloves.

“Can you breathe better? Ryan, c’mon, do something,” Shane’s hands were warm on his cool skin, he tugged the collar of Ryan’s sweater. St that point, Ryan realized that Shane was trying to give him breathing room. So he did. He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Jesus,” Shane uttered and pulled him into another embrace. “Breathe baby, it’s okay.”

Being in Shane’s arms was nice.

Ryan didn’t know how much time passed after that. He knew that Shane hugged him for a while, his arms wrapped around his torso as he helped him breathe. Once the heat of the room settled into Ryan’s bones, he caught sight of his dorm room.

He was on his bed, his legs crossed and changed into his sleeping attire. Covered by the blanket Shane used, resting on top of him and close to his nose—ah, _I_ see _,_ Ryan smiled softly, _to smell Shane as I calmed down, that’s smart of him_.

He had a panic attack before. Diana was the one to calm him, though it still embarrassed him to the point that he refused to let anybody go near him if he went through another episode. Shane must have handled it well, but the look on his face was one that Ryan couldn’t forget, he must have scared him.

Right on cue, Ryan heard the bathroom door open, stepping out Shane, holding a white towel over his hair. He ruffled it for a few seconds before his gaze turned to Ryan.

“Ryan,” he tossed the towel on the couch and walked over to him, and because he was a clueless idiot who didn’t think to finish drying himself, his hair stuck out in different directions. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” Ryan answered, “did I have a panic attack?”

“You started to hyperventilate,” Shane told him promptly, sitting down on the side of the bed facing him. “I didn’t know what to do so I—I took you out of there.”

“Good choice. Are you okay?”

“Now why would you ask a silly question like that,” Shane tilted his head, hair moving along with him. Ryan lifted his hand to move a strand close to his eyes without touching him, “Ryan?”

“I must have scared you,” he sighed longingly, “It’s safe to tell me that I did.”

Shane stared at him, narrowing his eyes before giving in. “You did, little guy. A little bit, I would say. You—you had this glazed look in your eyes, a lot different from watching horror movies with you." 

Well, it was expected. Nobody could come out from a traumatic near-death experience unscathed.

Ryan frowned at himself, guess he wasn’t as ready as he thought he was. Physically, he was fine. Healing from the inside was the challenge he had to commit. The traumatic events played in his mind however, and when he saw those motorbikes, that _shelf_ , it set him off without warning. 

Shane witnessed all of that firsthand. He saw him at his worst, curling into himself in terror at the sight of two motorbikes he saw before almost dying in the desk where Shane stood. The thought of _that_ in itself was fucked up. Shane had to see the same location, stand a few feet from where his boyfriend would have been found frozen to death—

“A little too loud, baby,” Shane scrunched up his face, no humor found in his voice. “Perhaps you should rest your mind for now. Get some sleep, huh? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks doc, you sure know how to take care of little old me.”

“Hardly old,” Shane took hold of Ryan’s cheeks with both hands, kissed Ryan’s forehead a little bit above his right eyebrow. “Sleep well, Ryan. I’ll be on the couch if you need me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

With that, Shane kissed him again, this time on his cheek before letting him go and facing away towards the couch. Since Ryan was covered by the blanket he used, he only had the bare bedsheet, the throw blanket and a pillow.

And to sleep on a back-breaking couch after he held Ryan through a panic attack, walked with him in the snow alone and anxiously changing him to his pajamas. It was unfair.

“Sleep on the bed, Shane,” Ryan blurted out, making his boyfriend whirl his own head over to him. 

“Oh,” he shrugged, “for tonight? Okay—” 

“Permanently, bighead.” Ryan tossed the blanket with his feet, messing up the bedsheets as best as he could and scooted himself over to the other side of the bed. “Come on, lay down and cuddle with me. If you’re lucky, you can be little spoon.”

Shane watched all of this unfold (literally) before smiling as wide as he could. He looked like he was seconds away from throwing himself on top of Ryan before he paused, “are you sure? Are we on bed sharing terms again?” 

“We were always on bedsharing terms,” Ryan patted his side, “I left it warm for you.”

This time Shane _did_ throw himself on him, nearly crushing him and landed on his side with a satisfied groan. He spread himself all the way from the bedframe to the end of the couch, making Ryan laugh loudly at his enormously long legs.

They didn’t sleep right away, who would? Not when E.R was playing on their television.

George Clooney kept Shane on his toes and he watched with such a relaxed expression. Halfway into the third episode, Shane hid his face on Ryan’s chest, one eye still trailed on the television, but he began to blink drowsily.

Two months into their relationship, Ryan found this the best part of a sleepy Shane. His words became slurred, his movements slower and he left himself go limp on whatever he was sleeping on. In this case, Ryan. Ryan didn’t oppose, he threw his arm over him and ran his hand over his nape and back. Warm like always.

“Hey, Shane?”

He hummed, eyes opening to watch the television and pretend that he wasn’t sleeping for ten minutes.

“I forgot to ask, did I at least finish the job in the backroom?” 

“No,” Shane tittered, waited through the shared paused and lifted his own head to face him, “sometimes Ryan, having a deity for a husband comes at a great price. With lots of benefits, dental is one of them. Magically finishing the job is another.”

Shane never used his powers for Ryan (unless he asked) and _only_ used them in case of an emergency. His boyfriend knew that Ryan was trying to overcome his fear on his own and he didn’t want to interfere.

It was nice for now, and Ryan will let it go this time because Adam would probably have his head if he left the job untouched. Ryan rolled his eyes, then said the opposite of what Shane expected him to say. “You’re not my husband, but thank you. Means a lot.”

“Mhm, stop talking now. I'm trying to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

Reading is Shane’s favorite past time.

In 1892, he found himself reading the newspaper, trying to fit in as the role of a farmer, haystack needle in his mouth and his eyes trailed on each word. Though, back then, education was restricted and he was one of the only schmucks lucky enough to know the basics.

Still, he was the only person out there (that he knew) who read about the Lizzie Borden murders. That case, and another other events during his time wandering around, fascinated his interest in reading and lead to the purchase his first fictional book.

Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_. He remembers the day he bought it with what little coin he had. Turning the book all around first, inspecting it before he entered a new chapter in his life. Literally!

It was a thriller, a book that he had not only finished in a day, but honestly bore him after a week of reading the same paragraphs. Thanks to her brilliant mind, Shane had the chance to buy new books, longer and equally as boring or fascinating. All of them, he finished them in a hours time. 

So why was he still reading _Frankenstein_ after an entire week has passed? A tap on his shoulder answered that question for him, his eyes averted away from Ryan Bergara, his boyfriend who was stacking skis on the shelves inside the booth he was working in.

“You’re staring again,” Shane turned to the voice, he was sitting with his legs crossed on one of the couches in the resting area, purposely facing Ryan so he could watch him from afar, when he wanted to _read_. Both were conflicting him, after Ryan’s panic attack, he had caught himself staring into nothing in Ryan’s direction, he would just _stare_. 

At first it was creepy. And honestly, it kind of still was. But as a week passed, the days approaching Halloween, Shane just found himself looking for Ryan. Most of the time Shane wouldn’t be in the same room, sometimes he’ll be out of town himself, but when he saw Ryan, he couldn’t help himself.

“I am,” Shane confessed, closing his book with a sigh, “I can’t ever seem to finish this book because of him.”

“He’s fine,” the voice revealed themselves, moving from behind the couch he was sitting on and over to face him. Jen grinned at him, “Maycie was floating by him, he was singing to himself.”

“This is true,” another voice confirmed, though this one was a bit less energetic towards him. Maycie had yet to warm up to him like Jen did. He couldn’t blame her, he had quite the reputation to maintain and he couldn’t find the time to add in _now ghost friendly!_ on his business card. “He was humming along to excessive yodeling.” 

“That does sound like him,” from where he sat, he could see Ryan’s mouth move along with the music he was listening to.

Shane created a monster, all Ryan wanted to do was listen to the albums he recommended on repeat until Shane got tired of them. It would have annoyed him after the first two times but now he enjoyed them enough to hum along to.

“And! I haven’t left him alone,” Jen proclaimed, “he wouldn’t escape from me. I’m just that good.”

“He left,” Shane pointed out, watching Ryan walk to the back of the room connected to the booth, “it’s fine. Don’t follow him, Ryan knows his limits. If he was scared, he'll scream.”

Or light the zippo lighter I gave him. Thankfully, he had yet to use it which is great news, Ryan’s making process one step at a time.

“Is there any reason why you’re here, gloomy?”

“I’m always here—”

“Sorry, let me rephrase,” Jen extended her arm, balancing herself on the arm of the couch, “I’m sure you’re aware of what’s happening in L.A?” 

“I’m not caught up in the latest gossip among the supernatural,” at that, Ryan returned from the room he was in, still humming along with the blasting audio in his eardrums. He looked up at the counter for a second, caught Shane’s eyes and smiled before looking away.

Jen sighed, sitting down next to him. Brave of her to do so, even if Shane wasn’t going to threaten her for sitting with him, she had the courage to warm up to him. She’s been tolerable too, he enjoyed her presence like Ryan did (well, when he wasn’t acting like he didn’t.)

“Maycie and I like to gossip around town! We’ve been doing it for years,” Jen jerked her thumb to her friend to sit on the couch, though, Maycie hasn’t materialized the way Jen had. She was transparent beyond belief, floating barefoot, and glowered at her friend with a smile when she asked her to _sit_ on a human-made object.

“I wouldn’t say gossip…” Maycie objected, “we love to talk.”

“And we _talk!_ Interesting fact, the way I found out that Ryan was here was through a lady ghost,” Jen preached, bubbly and jumping on the couch, “she said that Ryan was here while she was with her husband. He acknowledged her. She was so happy she ran over to tell… well you, but since I was outside your house, like I would in on a typical evening, she spoke to me!”

“You were outside my house, that’s good,” Shane quipped sarcastically, “why didn’t you tell me where Ryan was at the time?”

“Ryan begged me not to tell you,” Jen shook her head, “I had to honor his wishes, he wouldn’t have spoken to me if I had told you.” 

“That’s fair. Is that all?”

“No,” Jen looked at Maycie, “tell him Maycie, tell him what you did.”

“It’s a stretch,” Maycie began, “but I saw—” for some interesting reason, Maycie turned her head to both of her sides, making sure nobody was around to hear, she leaned down and whispered, “I saw _her_ around L.A.” 

“Mhm,” Shane entertained the idea, “that’s nice.”

“I swear of it!” Maycie declared, “nobody could or _would_ disguise themselves as Fate. Why would they?”

Shane straightened up in his seat, his eyes narrowed but he resisted in showing any expression. He kept it blank, his lips pursed and eyes _again_ going back to Ryan. He was leaning on the counter, listening to his music and reading _Pride and Prejudice_ (now that Shane gave it to him.) “Fate? What’s she doing there?”

“I wanted to make sure,” Maycie went on, “I spoke with other acquaintances, lots of them saw her too. I wouldn’t have told you this if I wasn’t completely sure.”

“I believe you,” he sighed, falling back on the couch, hitting his head on the back of the couch. “Ignore her, she’ll probably leave once you—”

“I would but I already spoke with her,” Maycie finished, hugged herself in embarrassment.

“You—” Shane released a low growl from his throat, turning his head to the side and locked eyes with the spirit. “You’re out of your mind. She’s dangerous. She could have killed you.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Maycie shrugged, “well, not _anymore._ But I took the risk, who knows if she had something to say?”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing at first,” Maycie answered, she tucked a strand of her blonde, white-ish hair behind her ear, “I didn’t mention you or Ryan if that’s what you’re worried about. She asked if I knew where you were. I didn’t. Then she started talking about your nephew.”

“What—”

“Something about a sickness,” Maycie shrugged again, “that’s it. She didn’t mention Ryan, so it’s something that you know about?”

Oh he knows about it alright.

He knows exactly what she’s up to. Or at least half of it. The deity causing a gossip chain and ruckus in L.A is one that Shane had met long ago in Paris, somebody who crawled into Shane’s skin and annoyed him to the point of nearly tearing her apart. She _frustrated_ him.

If Andrew was unbearable, she was outrageously insufferable. And the fact that she had caused Steven’s illness was a warning of how far she would go if her wishes weren’t granted. Facing her wasn’t on his to-do list. Not with Ryan around.

“Thanks for telling me,” he admitted, “she won’t bother you anymore. Let her disappear on her own.”

“You’re not going back to check if she’s gone?” Maycie’s voice wavered, almost sounded as terrified as Ryan would sometimes.

Ghosts and spirits were on the lowest tier and when it came to deities, they’d be erracted from this world in a blink of an eye. He understood their worries, and he kind of felt bad for them. He _actually_ felt the need to get them away from any danger.

“She won’t leave if I face her, she’d know I’m living close by,” Shane told her, “I’ll stay here with Ryan, she’ll bore herself and leave on her own.”

If the task she had wasn’t earth-shattering, of course. Though, whenever it came to dealing with Shane, she wouldn’t bother. “Feel free to stay if you like, if not, I suggest you don’t speak to her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he smiled, the cherry on top, “if she tried, I wouldn’t let her kill you.”

Maycie’s eyes rounded in surprise, her mouth fell open as she processed his words. “You— _what_.”

“What’s this?” All three heads whirled around at the voice by their side.

Ryan blinked at them, his earphones hanging on the side of his wide shoulders, void of any music.

His black backpack hanging on his shoulder, a beanie on his ebony hair, and ready to go back to his dorm. His eyes scanned all three of them at once, trying to figure out the best possible explanation as to _why_ Jen, Maycie and Shane were talking amongst each other.

He must have figured it out in his head because his eyes brightened. “Aw, you’re all bonding!”

Maycie and Jen grinned, given him their wide grins and agreed before Shane could try to explain himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose when Jen floated to Ryan’s side, talking to him as ecstatically as she could, trying to fit in as many words as she could before Shane interrupted.

Ryan listened, though hid it well, he nodded at each word she said ranging from 'L.A is getting colder' to 'Kelsey hired new employees, one of them is named Curly he’s so nice!'

“I know Jen,” Ryan laughed, adjusting his backpack strap, “Kelsey called me this morning to tell me all about it. Anyway, what are you all doing gathered here? Book club? A… two ghosts and a deity book club?” Ryan chuckled at his own joke but stopped when Shane glared at him. 

“There’s no meeting, they’re invisible to the human eye, remember?” Shane stood from his seat, pivoting to his side, “it’s just me, you see.”

“A book club for one,” Ryan frowned, “rather lonely, don’t you think?” 

“You’re here now,” he beamed, lifted his hand and hovered it over his beanie-covered head. He leaned down, “I hope you brought your own book.” 

“I did,” Ryan showed him _Pride and Prejudice_. “I don’t know what’s going on because whenever I looked up. you were talking to them—and _not_ whispering big guy, you said it yourself, they’re invisible to the human eye.” 

“In other words, I’m taking to air,” Shane could see where the concern lay. Ryan’s boyfriend must have been outed as a maniac talking to nothing in the middle of a resting area where people walked in and out often.

“Is your shift over? A little bit too early don’t you think?”

“Adam’s making up the hours he lost,” Ryan rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m not going to complain. I’m hungry, Shane, I was hoping you had a place in mind.” 

Shane didn’t. But if he was lucky, if he dug deep enough, he’ll find a place to take Ryan to at last minute in the middle of the afternoon.

His head worked like an encyclopedia, locations ranging from out and inside the country neatly arranged and whenever he wanted he'll close his eyes and stick his finger in the big bowl of restaurants Ryan might like. 

He calls it his _surprise Ryan_ bowl.

He turned his head over to Jen and Maycie, “we’re heading out to Savannah, ladies. Stay in touch,” he nodded, placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and led them away from the two invisible apparitions.

“You look insane in other people’s eyes,” Ryan told him as they stood in front of the front door of the ski resort.

Shane studied Ryan’s clothes, a bit excessive but perfectly fine for Georgia’s cold weather. If they hurried it up, they might be able to see _snow_ falling from the sky, how original. “How would I be able to explain my boyfriend, the only living best friend I ever had isn’t even human?”

“If anybody can do it, it’s you,” Shane made known, “hold on tight Ryan, we’re going out.”

Teleporting from Ryan’s point of view must have been a pain in the ass to deal with. Shane’s used to the dizziness, the absolute blindness void that he saw for a split second before appearing in wherever he liked. He held Ryan’s hand exceptionally tight this time, passing through the warm atmosphere of Dodge Ridge to outside Savannah, Georgia.

It wasn’t snowing, though it was cold. The town had old buildings, cobblestone pavements, and a man-made plaza where family-owned restaurants and shops surrounded them. One of which Shane had visited years ago. Sent out for a job in Savannah, he sat down and taught himself the intriguing cash-grab method by the townsfolk of the legend of the  _moth-man._

It worked, Shane did buy what they offered with a smile on his face. Ryan would enjoy the history behind it, better yet, stuffing himself with coffee, cookies and pizza. A laugh stopped him from thinking any further and he saw Ryan, standing up completely upright and holding his hand loosely.

“Saw you dancing this time,” Ryan chuckled, “you’re the absolute worst, how could they allow you to sing _Shake Shake Señora_?”

Shane laughed with him, his fondest memories involved him getting blackout drunk, singing every possible song he knew as bothersome as he could and dance the night away. It was one of the only ways he could distract himself from the agony in his chest.

Nobody, not even Shane, could say where exactly Shane from Ryan’s fleeting vision was dancing at, yet, he liked the thought of it making Ryan laugh his ass off.

“You’re absolutely—I’m at a loss for words,” Ryan rubbed his temple, “I’m not as dizzy this time around though, maybe your laughter is the cure?”

“Or you’re getting used to teleportation,” Shane suggested, “come on, the cafe isn’t as far from here.”

Together, they ate in the cozy café, drinking their respective coffees and ate (almost) all of the baked goods they had available. Needless to say, Ryan loved the history behind their town, kept his ears open with every word Shane recounted. A full hour long lesson he had to sit through was told in less than ten minutes, Ryan cracking up each time.

(He couldn’t stop laughing at the statue of the cryptic outside.)

(“They should make me one,” Shane squinted at the misleading figure of the statue. “Carve me in Ben Affleck’s body but keep my face. _Shane Madej,_ the most powerful deity.” 

“Shut _up_ , Shane.”)

Their second date—what a time to call it _that—_ their second date after months apart went well.

After visiting the statue, they continued their walk around town, buying souvenirs (Ryan had to buy Steven a mini replica of the moth-man, of course), ordering another set of cookies for the road, and finally stopping by the pizza restaurant he visited years back.

Letting the door close behind him and in Ryan’s face (to retaliate him buying that hideous replica,) he took in the acquainted atmosphere of the store. Now that he thought about it, he should have dyed his hair a little to make it seem like he’s aged, but thankfully, nobody recognized him.

“What an interesting town,” Ryan mused, biting into his second slice of pizza. “Everything is a perfect setup for tourists, it’s great.”

“It _worked_ ,” Shane wiped his mouth with a napkin, “I came here _twice_ already. I hope they keep it up.”

“We make it sound like a scheme,” Ryan covered his mouth, “they’re all nice people. This pizza is fuckin’ insanely good.”

“Hey baby, I’m just glad you’re in a good mood. We can come here anytime we want.”

Ryan nodded, agreeing with him as he continued eating. Bet a year ago that he wouldn’t think he would be sitting in a booth with Shane in Savannah, sharing a ridiculous hefty amount of pizza with him.

Shane liked this. If anything, being with Ryan was his new favorite pastime. Since reading deemed itself useless if he kept getting distracted by Ryan anyway.

“I think it was the fact that I saw you happy,” Ryan continued after a while, massaging his full stomach, “you must have had a great time there, the lady you were with topped it all off, she looked ticked off with you.”

Shane’s eyebrows knitted together, “who?” 

“The—” Ryan burped, “the lady, man! She was sitting behind you, wearing some kind of red dress? Fuck if I remember, she looked angry.”

Shane cursed mentally, his mind on a constant _fuck fuck fuck_ as he tried to remember. Ladies? Ladies that heard him sing drunkenly in a bar karaoke night, dancing away. Wearing a red dress—a— 

Oh fuck.

“Paris?”

Ryan’s head snapped up, “uh, I don’t even know where you are when I see you. Maybe?”

Fuck. He should of known it was all connected back to her. Ryan being unaffected after teleporting was too good to be true. And her appearance in L.A—talking to Maycie? He should have known, she was trying to contact him, she wanted to talk to him.

Which wouldn’t happen, after she disturbed him in said Paris’ bar, she threatened him and he almost ripped out her throat in retaliation. But Fate was a force to be reckoned with, she had powers that rivaled Shane’s own, masking herself as something that every human and their soulmate should follow in order to please the man upstairs. 

Fuck. She was an egotistical—

“Shane?”

His eyes averted from his half-eaten piece of pizza and over to Ryan, his eyebrow raised. “Everything good?”

“Yeah, uh,” Shane swore to himself again, he couldn’t get away from not telling Ryan either?

He promised that he'll be honest, and now that Fate was looking for him and inevitably Ryan too, he had no choice but to warn him about her. If she could hurt Shane in a split second, she’d destroy Ryan’s soul in half that time frame. And he would _never_ let that happen for as long as he lived.

“Actually, about what Jen and Maycie were talking to me before, it kind of involves you,” Shane started, “Maycie encountered a deity in L.A. Usually, there isn’t any problem if there was. But she has her suspicions that this particular deity could be looking for me, in turn, you.”

“What?” Ryan whispered, his eyes rounded, his face blanched as he absorbed this information. “Could they hurt you?”

“No, _she_ won’t,” reassured Shane, “I’m telling you to warn you and to keep you in the light of things. Her name is Fate and she’s dangerous.”

“How—Shane, what the hell?”

“I know that L.A is far from Dodge Ridge, and it’s further from where we currently _are_ , I want you to keep an eye out. Knowing her, she couldn't help herself from introducing herself.” 

“Do you both have like,” Ryan swayed his hand, leaned back on the booth, “bad blood or something? Rivals?”

“The most dangerous one of them all, Ryan,” Shane reached for his hand from across the table, “this is happening too fast, let me slow down,” he held Ryan’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, sticky from pizza sauce and clammy from the thought of a deity other than Shane.

“I’ll tell you more about her when we get back to Dodge Ridge, I just wanted you to know.”

Ryan’s eyes softened, he inhaled and exhaled before giving him a soft smile, “thanks for telling me at least. You could have kept it to yourself. You can tell more about her at your own expense, right now, I kind of want to go home and watch some television with you.” 

Breathing easier than before, Shane smiled at his boyfriend. His anxiety about Fate coming in and hurting the both of them disappeared from his mind as they stepped back into their dorm in Dodge Ridge.

“I can see that you’re tense Shane,” Ryan pointed out as he sat on the bed with him, extending his legs. “It’s okay, she can’t hurt us.”

Shane bit his lip. She can’t find him them unless somebody betrayed their hiding spot to her, she wouldn’t have any intention of hurting them unless she felt threatened or compelled to do so.

Even then, Shane wouldn’t let her hurt Ryan, and he knew that Ryan would literally throw himself in front of him to protect him too. Stupid moron, he was the immortal one here.

“Promise that you’ll be careful,” Shane asked of him over an episode of E.R, he shifted himself to face Ryan sideways, “there might be days where I have to return to L.A, if I do, don’t turn your back on anybody.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, and just as quickly as they did, he leaned forward and pressed his lips on Shane’s. Holding his warmer, full lips on Shane’s own for a second before pulling away; Shane chased his lips though, capturing them himself and opening his mouth slightly. 

Maybe Fate does honor her title, as only talking about her pulled Ryan and Shane closer together.

 

* * *

 

“ _I hope you have something in store for me, baby_ ,” Kelsey spoke over the receiver, her voice calm and Ryan imagined her sitting on one of the stools at Tasty, digging through the bowl of peanuts with her phone in her ear. “ _I’m Ryan-starved._ ”

“It’s only been a few days,” Ryan replied, adjusting the phone in between his cheek and shoulder, he continued to clean, wiping the furniture of his dorm with a white cloth. _Lots of things have been happening, though_. “I guess I could spare you a few details.”

“ _A few?!_ ” She babbled and Ryan smiled to himself, moving from the desk to the television.

“Last time we spoke, I was at work remember? Nothing happened,” he smiled, “I’ve spent my days with Shane after that, we walked together in the snow,” he took the rag back in his hand and walked into the bathroom, running it under warm water before rinsing it.

“ _You walked in the snow for nine days_ ,” Kelsey joked, it wasn’t a question, she knew _exactly_ what he meant.

There had been times that Shane and Ryan walked in the forest, while being on their phones was forbidden on their only-them exclusive walks, it didn’t stop the both of them from sneaking in videos or pictures of the other. Kelsey saw all of them, replying with an excessive amount of heart emojis. “ _That’s cute! That’s commitment_ _._ ”

“You know what I mean,” Ryan laughed, rinsing the rag one more time and began to clean around the bathroom. His hair products, alongside with Shane’s were stuffed together on one side of the sink, mixed together and their toothbrushes on the tin can. Cleaning the bathroom was the worst, Shane always liked his products to be with Ryan’s because initially that’s where they would end up anyway. 

“ _Interesting. Whenever I see those videos, you both look like you’re having too much fun, what do you even talk about?_ ”

“Nothing much,” he drawled, shrugging, “catching up. Told me that he went to his co-worker’s birthday party, oh! And that you hosted a fourth of July party.”

“ _I can’t believe he told you that,_ ” Kelsey went on, “ _I can’t look at another hamburger anymore, I grew up in Florida_ —”

“I get it,” Ryan chuckled, “it’s Shane’s favorite holiday, the crazy man.”

At the thought of him, he snuck a glance over to his boyfriend and he turned back to the sink and started to clean hastily. “I took him skiing,” well, he didn’t take them anywhere, they were already here.

Diana convinced Shane that it’d be safe for his long, long legs of his to ski, and on one of Ryan’s day’s off, he followed him over to the mountain slopes.

They spent most of the day skiing together, Ryan had trouble at first, but Shane, being the haughty deity he was, knew exactly what he was doing. Afterwards, they bundled up in their dorm room and bickered over _Alien_. It was undoubtedly, another one of Ryan's favorite days. 

“ _That man knows how to adapt,_ ” Kelsey sighed, “ _how I miss him tall ass, and yours too_.”

Ryan frowned, he missed her too, seeing her and talking to her was always Ryan’s preferred part of going in work. She’d treat him like her equal, a brother she never had (her words) and a son that she’d want. (Again her words.)

In the past few days, Shane and himself hadn’t had the time to visit her. Only Steven had checked out their list because he was still getting used to San Diego and trying to overcome homesickness. Seeing Shane has not cured it though, it made it _worse_. 

“We miss you too,” he claimed, dumping the filthy rag under the counter, mentally noting to throw it away later. He washed up, “we’ll come down to L.A soon I think, Shane’s—” he trailed off, trying to find the right words, “Shane thinks that we _should_ go down there sometime.”

His eye twitched when Kelsey sighed again, dramatically. He wanted to see her so bad, but with the mutual danger they were in L.A, it wasn’t something they considered to do.

If this Fate woman was waiting for Shane, she’d probably had contacts that told her that Tasty was a hotspot, Shane’s job was another. They were, in many words, stuck in Dodge until further notice.

Not like Ryan had the desire to return to Los Angeles. October was nearing its end, Halloween was sooner than later, passing onto the last month of autumn, _and_ his twenty-seventh birthday. Speaking of, he smiled over the phone, “you could come to our Halloween party. It’ll be fun, you could meet the gang here, Brent is here, too, I’m sure you remember him.”

“ _I do_ ,” Kelsey whistled, “ _baby, I’d love to attend, but Tasty’s got this annual Oktoberfest I have to tend to. Besides, the cold and I don’t match at all, it hasn’t even reached sixty degrees yet over here, I’m basking in the after-summer glow until December._ ” 

Of course. The cold followed behind Shane wherever he went. He spent another few minutes with Kelsey on the phone as he washed up, listening attentively as she told him about her. Her new employees are students who reminded her of him, social butterflies who keep her company in both morning and night shifts.

One of them, the night waiter replacing Steven was Curly, he was one of Kelsey’s best employees so far, had gotten the job the same way Ryan did.

(Though when Kelsey asked him the infamous ghost question, Curly smiled and said that he believed in the _sexiest_ of ghosts.) 

She’s living with her boyfriend in L.A. After selling her apartment (Ryan’s old one,) she used that money for her business and had moved herself in with him in order to save up funds. She had told him that she had trouble in the summer, but her business was _booming_ like she wouldn’t believe.

(Shane’s magical advertising paid off.)

Kelsey rambled through the phone, and Ryan turned his head to the side when he heard a groan from the other room. Raising his eyebrow, he took a towel from the stand and ran it through the faucet, rising it and walked out of the bathroom.

“ _I forgot to ask, how’s Shane?_ ” Kelsey continued, and Ryan snorted at the question. 

“He’s fine,” he lied, then leaned down on his bed, a knee on the bedsheets and loomed over his boyfriend.

Shane was on his back, sweating profusely and whimpering in his sleep. Mumbling nonsense to himself, Shane’s mouth moved unconsciously and shook his head back and forth. Wearing nothing but his pajamas, equally as drenched as his forehead; though, he was hot to the touch, his skin sticky and almost _sizzling_. “He’s doing great,” he mumbled. 

Pushing the phone away from his ear for a second, Ryan hushed him as softly as he could, resting the rag over his forehead, wiping away the sweat and fluid coming from his skin.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispered, he tossed the blanket on top of him, revealing the stab wound in his chest. The blade illuminated the room, a cobalt color blinded Ryan’s face for a split second and if Ryan exposed his injury, he was sure that it was swollen and bruised.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he continued, wiping all the sweat from his forehead, then he took the phone with his other hand.

Kelsey was still talking to him, the volume on his phone high enough that he could hear her, “ _—and tell him that I miss him too,_ ” she said, “ _he was a pain in my ass, still, I miss him_.”

Ryan cleared his throat and laughed half-heartedly, “I’ll tell him,” he wiped the remaining sweat from his head and left the towel on his forehead, atop the strands of his hair.

Shane’s eyes shut vigorously and his face twisted with a anguished expression, opening his mouth with a silent groan. Ryan took this time to press his own hand on Shane’s cheek, cooling him to the touch.

“He’s sleeping right now,” he muttered, watching as Shane relaxed under his touch, “I have to go and cuddle next to him for a while. I’ll talk to you later, Kels?” He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, though Shane was pressing himself to his side, blinked until he kept them open, half-lidded.

“ _Will do, Ry-guy,_ ” she replied, “ _be with your lover. I’ll talk to you later, love you!_ ”

Ryan said his own goodbyes and hung up, making sure that the call was disconnected before placing his phone on the bedside table.

“Hey, big guy,” he whispered again, “are you awake enough to talk?”

Shane shook his head, mumbled a few words before closing his eyes. Ryan’s eyebrows knitted together, he took the blanket and swung it over his chest, making sure it’s light enough to breathe. He wouldn’t have done it, since Shane’s warmed up already, but the sword’s presence was too much for him to stare at. 

This is the second time Shane’s been in this state with Ryan around. The first had been back in L.A—in May where he found him on the floor enclosed by lit candles.

It would happen spontaneously, Ryan knew that, but he was still caught off guard when Shane yelled in obvious pain, falling to his knees into the snow. Needless to say, Ryan dragged him back to the dorm as best as he could and ever since this morning, he’d been cooped up in their room with him.

After a few hours of an unresponsive, sleeping Shane, he distracted himself from sitting beside him to watching television, playing on his phone, messedwith Shane’s hand or cleaning the room. Shane wouldn’t stay awake for long, to look at Ryan before passing out from shock. It must have caused him such agony, such distress that he couldn’t move—almost as if he was paralyzed.

And he dealt with it alone?

Ryan sighed, he scooted himself over to Shane’s side, his body heat intense and spread over to Ryan’s own. He laid on his side, running his fingers over Shane’s arm gently. He stopped when he reached his fingers, closing his own around Shane’s hand. Impressed that even in sleep, Shane’s hand would instinctively close around his.

Weeks passed since their talk, since then, Ryan and Shane had a few dates at the ski resort and outside of town. Their relationship was finally on track, getting back where they were before, only this time, Ryan had gotten braver with intimacy. He was initiating kisses and hugs, holding Shane’s hand whenever they were in public or kissing him in their bed.

Now the last one was tricky. Ryan hadn’t thought about kissing Shane in private as much before. But, it had crossed his mind that they _were_ alone and they could do whatever they wanted. He wouldn’t force his boyfriend into anything sexual-related if he didn’t want to. It was something to talk about for sure, but Ryan’s cheeks would blush with the thought of it. 

He’s never been with a man before, hell, he’s never been with anybody else. It was new for him, Shane was the one with experience here. Ryan hid his reddened face into Shane’s arm, why was he thinking about this?

Breathing slowly to calm his beating heart, he moved his head over to Shane, only to catch _him_ staring. Looking down at Ryan who was hanging onto his hand, his arm near Ryan’s cheek.

Stunned, Ryan fully turned his head to lock eyes with Shane, making sure their hands remained intertwined. “You’re awake?”

“I am now,” Shane choked, voice dry. He raised an eyebrow at him, “your heart is beating abnormally fast. Is everything okay?”

Ryan wrinkled his nose at how cliché Shane was. “How could you ask _me_ that? Are you in pain?”

“It’s there,” Shane muttered out, he moved his free arm, poorly tracing the blanket set on his stomach. “You… you are certainly healing me.”

He stirred his hand on his chest, then down to his ribs, resting it there. Ryan watched him do this with a puzzled look on his face, he didn’t get the chance to ask what he was doing before Shane was moving his hand again.

This time, his hand caressed Ryan's cheekbone, warm, calloused fingers rubbed against his skin. “You’re blushing.”

Oh my _god_. Ryan clicked his tongue, his boyfriend is a gem. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you see how close I am to you?” Ryan rolled his eyes as if the answer was obvious, he hid his face in Shane’s arm again, adjusting himself to press his cheek on Shane’s boney bicep. “It was bound to happen.”

“It hasn’t happened before,” Shane teased, he cleared out his throat, shaking Ryan’s body along with his own. “Humans do change over time.”

“Don’t say that like that. Deities change too,” Ryan uttered out from his arm, Shane laughed at him, pulled his arm away, untangling their hands and threw his arm around him. “Don’t tell me that isolated, introverted deities cuddle with their _human_ boyfriends.”

“Stop exposing me,” Shane pulled him closer, his sticky skin stuck to his thin white sweater revealing his collarbones (which was not helping the blush from vanishing) and he didn’t smell that great either, but Ryan encouraged it anyway. “Should I shower?”

“Stop reading my thoughts.”

“I wasn’t,” Shane let out a chuckle, “why, were you thinking about me?”

“God. You’re insufferable,” Ryan rolled over, ducking under Shane’s arm and stood up. “I see that you’re feeling better, you should go shower." 

“No…” Shane groaned, “come back,” he whined when Ryan was about to walk away. “You can’t possibly leave me, right?”

“I’m not leaving you, dumbass,” Ryan glared down at Shane, the color of his skin still pasty, though it was slowly recovering with every passing minute. “You have to cool down, we can have some noodles afterward.”

Shane hummed, accepting the fact that he didn’t smell all too great and sat up. His face scrunched in pain but otherwise, it was diminishing. The blanket on him fell over to the ground, revealing the blade, light swirled around it magically and Ryan couldn’t help but stare at it. 

After a long shower, Shane cooled down exceptionally fast. He was no longer sweating, his skin cooled down to a reasonable temperature and he could walk on his own after a while. If there was room to complain, the sword was still glowing full-blast and it currently found the both of them inspecting it in the cafeteria. 

“I don’t—” Ryan walked to his side, “I don’t want to touch it.”

“Trust me, I don’t want you to,” Shane remarked, his hands hovered over the blade’s hilt, “how the fuck do you make it transparent—there has to be an easier way.” 

“You’ve been living with it and youdon’t know?”

“It does it on his own!” Shane protested, twisting his hands over the hilt without touching it, “I don’t have to deal with it, but this is too much.” He was talking about the blinding light radiating from his chest, Ryan had to find salvation in his sunglasses.

“This is making me look like an ass,” Ryan pinched the sunglasses’ lenses, “who wears sunglasses indoors? See, everybody is staring.”

“It’s useless,” Shane sighed, “we’re the only ones who have to deal with this. Don’t bring attention to it, let's just go _eat_.”

“If anybody asks why I’m wearing sunglasses,” Ryan began, walking in front of his glowing boyfriend, “I got in a bar fight and won.” 

“What did you do?” Shane asked, mockingly gasping at the thought of his boyfriend fighting anybody. “Was it for me? _Ryan_ , I’m honored.”

Ryan bit down the urge to laugh loudly in the middle of the line they were in and instead turned his head over to Shane.

Because of the sunglasses, Shane couldn’t see his peeved glare so he just puckered his lips. Somehow, Shane thought this meant that he wanted a kiss and he fulfilled that wish, pecking his lips quickly. 

“ _Wait_ a minute—”

“Oh look, they do have noodles here, Ryan,” Shane reached over him, taking the tray handed over to him.

Feeling bloated after two bowls of stir fry noodles, they decided to take a stroll through the longer route back to the dorm. Because Shane was in pain this morning and half of the afternoon, the sun was already setting, covered by clouds on the horizon, signaling that it might snow overnight. 

“We have to stop devouring more food that we can withstand,” Ryan urged, holding his hand on his stomach and the other laced with Shane’s hand. “All that sodium…”

“I feel fine, you big baby,” Shane laughed at him, “Diana’s mother,” he whistled, “that woman can cook a mean bowl of stir fry.”

“All those vegetables in my stomach aren’t agreeing with you,” Ryan winced, “for having such a reputation to keep you healthy, it’s doing the opposite inside me right now.”

“In considerable amounts, Ryan,” Shane pointed out, “anyways, all those veggies can help me recover faster. I have to make a trip to L.A tomorrow, did I tell you?”

Ryan shook his head, “are you sure you’re feeling better?”

At least the sword’s glow diminished as they ate, the longer they stopped complaining about how it bothered them, the invisible light grew weaker and now, it was nothing excessive. A swirl around a transparent object no less. 

“As good as a pickle,” Shane smiled, “there is the occasional discomfort, overall, I’m fine.”

“That’s good,” Ryan’s stomach growled, this time in complete distress. He felt like he was about to explode, however, this conversation was important. They didn’t have the chance to talk about what happened this morning. “What happened? Is it something that randomly… happens?” 

“More often than not,” Shane confessed, frowning at himself, “sometimes it hurts when I wake up, sometimes it happens out of nowhere. It’s a bitch and a half to take of, don’t you agree?” 

“Of the pain, I bet. I didn’t have any trouble taking care of _you_ , if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Shane shrugged his shoulders, “you’re stronger than me, I doubt that you couldn’t. Still, thank you, baby, if it weren’t for you, I'd be in a ditch somewhere.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Ryan told him earnestly, knitting his eyebrows together, “is it going to happen again? What are we going to do?”

“We?”

“Yeah _we_ , should I buy you cooling pads, would those help?” Ryan continued, “you had a fever both times I've seen you like this. Maybe they'll help cool your skin. Some soup? You like soup, I know you do—hey, what’s wrong?”

Ryan turned around when he noticed Shane pause in his steps. The sun set at a gradual pace behind him, the clouds set in the sky already had started to gather closer, the first few drops of snow fell from the sky and into Shane’s gelled hair. He didn’t speak and stared at Ryan with those crestfallen eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you see something?” Ryan asked again, pulling on their joined hands. 

Shane shook his head wordlessly, pushing his own body towards Ryan and leaned down, he pressed his cool forehead on Ryan’s, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them. “Why can’t you tell me that you don’t want to deal with this?”

Assuming Shane meant the curse; why would he say that? Ryan’s eyebrows drew together, why would he _ever_ think that leaving Shane in a vulnerable state is an easy solution for him? The thought of his boyfriend in pain because of a curse he didn’t deserve was enough to make Ryan run to his side.

“I’ll never leave you,” he admitted, “I could tell you, in detail, the times you've helped me before you even _knew_ me. Tell me Shane, why would I ever leave you?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Shane pulled him away, he held him close however, his hand on Ryan’s nape. “If it gets too much, you’re allowed to leave because baby, that wasn’t the half of it.”

Ryan wanted to throw _him_ in a ditch himself, “you can’t get rid of me. Now that I found out that I _can’t_ make you pretty by removing the sword, I have to take care of you,” he shrugged, “as a—a compromise, if you will.”

“That’s—” Shane narrowed his eyes, “I have nothing in return.”

“You do,” Ryan mischievously smiled, “you’re already handsome and _tall_. There’s no need to remove the sword otherwise, right? You were a pretty goblin all this damn time, I should have known it was a lie, you can’t possibly be more attractive.” 

“That’s not a fair compromise,” Shane chuckled, eyes squinted. “I’ll take the compliment with open arms, hold it dear in my wilting heart. The offer still stands, if you’re overwhelmed with me, you’re allowed to run away.”

“I’m just as overwhelming,” Ryan stated, “two pieces of a complicated puzzle.”

Shane’s smile widened and he leaned forward, capturing Ryan’s lips in a bruising kiss in the sunset outside of Dodge Ridge.

He followed Shane’s lips, he learned how to stop accidently pecking his teeth and focused on following Shane’s lead. When Shane opened his mouth with his own lips, moving his other hand to hold Ryan’s face in place, it made Ryan’s knees tremble.

They’d kiss like this almost in rare occasions, where Shane would just lose himself with him and Ryan would follow his trail like a lost puppy. It was nice. Very nice.

Ryan dragged his lips away for a second, seeing as Shane licked his own. “We have to stop, you taste like the vegetables you ate,” he told Ryan, already halfway into diving in for more, better yet, he went against his own words and kissed Ryan again, a few pecks before deepening the kiss. “If you let me, it’d just get worse here on out.” 

An imagine of them making out in the freezing snow crossed Ryan’s mind, making him laugh into the kiss and Shane pulled away.

“I am freezing,” Ryan said against his mouth, “are you against the idea of continuing this indoors?”

“Never,” with that, Shane showed him that he could manhandle him, too.

 

* * *

 

_It’s not a costume_ , Ryan thought, _why am I wearing this_. 

He squinted at himself, staring down the full-body mirror.

He was dressed in a white collared shirt, tucked in black pants, he had to tilt his head constantly to see if it he could _move_ considering the shirt was Shane’s and the sleeves on Shane’s shirt didn’t help his arms. Giving up on trying to fold them _at least_ to his wrist, he left it alone and decided that he’ll be warmer anyway.

Smart thinking. 

Ryan rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes and cursing himself, he looked ridiculous. He didn’t think much about it at the time Shane pitched the idea of dressing up as _good cop_ and _bad cop_ for Halloween, but now as he strapped on the phony police badge on his pants, he was doubting the authenticity and having a serious case of déjà vu.

“Well, look at you, fancy pants,” Shane quipped, stepping out of the bathroom himself.

He was matching with Ryan, though, he insisted that bad cops wear their ties tussled, around their neck with their blazer over their shoulder. Ryan turned it down at the time, but now seeing it live and on Shane, he gulped and mentally thanked every molecule of Shane’s genius mind.

“I feel ridiculous,” Ryan brought back the attention to himself, watching as Shane passed him by from the mirror for the finishing accessories to his outfit, while he picked up the fake police badge, Shane did a double take and looked at Ryan’s own. He felt his cheeks grew hot when Shake hummed and placed his on the _same_ place.

“You don’t look ridiculous,” he reassured, “you look…” he paused, whatever he wanted to say before flew over his head and he hesitated, “uh, you look nice.”

“Nice.”

“Handsome,” Shane rephrased, and somehow he thought it’d be ideal for him to stand behind him and see himself in the mirror too. “You’re missing your tie.” 

“I’m bad at tying ties,” Ryan confessed, looking at the poor thing in his hand, “can’t we be bad cop and bad cop?”

“No,” Shane laughed, he jerked his fingers to the tie and Ryan gave it to him. “How would we get anything solved? The police force would hate us.”

“We’d be the worst detectives, Madej. I don’t think we’d solve anything.”

Shane busied himself to throw the tie over Ryan’s head, hastily tying it with skilled hands, his fingers blurred in Ryan’s head as he tied with careful movements. It was impressive, Ryan’s eyes bore on Shane’s fingers, skinny fingers and how they moved without question.

Afraid of staring Shane in the eyes as he tied Ryan’s tie, closely standing chest to chest, he kept his eyes down on Shane’s polished black shoes. This is how they’d look if they ever got married, tying each other’s tie—

Shane’s hands stopped moving, and Ryan tensed, he must have heard his thoughts—oh _fuck_.

“I think I’d be a great detective,” was what Shane proclaimed and Ryan snapped his head up. Oh, he was done. “I think I’d be able to think the way criminals do.”

“That’s comforting,” Ryan joked, then when Shane turned his back towards him, he glanced at the ceiling.

His boyfriend’s presence was overwhelming, worse when he was wearing exactly what Ryan was. Except he didn’t tuck in his shirt, his tie was loosely around his neck and Ryan imagined that somewhere in the party, one too many drinks in him, he’ll hold onto the end of that tie and pull him down for a kiss.

He was doing it again! Whatever it was, he thought of kissing Shane more, bringing him down to kiss him breathlessly. It was fine, if the thoughts didn’t usually involve him thinking about the bed in the room. Being in a room alone with Shane didn’t help. The thoughts only intensified.

Is this what it was when you’re romantically involved with anybody? Because Ryan wanted to, he desperately wanted to know where it would lead if he kissed Shane a bit longer.

Kelsey joked about sex to him before, sex with _Shane_. And at the time, he cringed at the idea, thinking nothing of it because Shane was barely his friend, much less his boyfriend. Were they ready? Was Ryan ready? Was Shane even thinking about it, too?

“Are you ready?” Shane’s words interrupted him, “I’d be nice to drink while we’re ahead.”

“It’s six in the afternoon, Shane.”

Shane handed him his coat, watched him as he shrugged it on and opened the room's door. As he was walking out of the room, he turned back to Ryan and looked at him with a smile, “any time is piña colada time, baby. One kiss for the road?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, “sure,” he prepared himself for a slobbery kiss on his cheek, but Shane dodged that and went for his lips, folding his lips over Ryan’s.

He left them there for a moment before pulling away, the look on his face was one that Ryan couldn’t forget. Everytime they kissed, Shane would look at him with sparkles in his eyes, half-lidded, his eyelashes almost touching his cheeks.

It made Ryan wonder for a minute, would Shane—

“Stop looking at me like that, we’d get nowhere,” Ryan warned instead, shaking his head and ducking under Shane’s arm. “I want to have piña coladas, too. Do you think they’d have _Shake Señora_ on karaoke?”

They did. 

Both of them were smothered with compliments when they arrived at the poorly, decorated party at the ski resort when there were obviously better, thoughtful costumes around them. Shane picked the laziest of them all, they worked at the last minute and he was inspired by Law and Order. Isn’t he the best?

“The bestest,” Diana laughed, her own costume, Dorothy from the _Wizard of Oz_ , with pigtails and a blueberry dress. She was working on three margaritas at most, not bothering to sway at all as she spoke to them with the steadiest voice. Shane was already leaning on him, his blazer mysteriously gone, “it’s a duo thing, couples do this _every_ Halloween.” 

“We’re a package deal,” Shane praised, his chest on Ryan’s back, he wrapped his arm around Ryan’s side, his piña colada threatened to spill as it was filled to the brim but Ryan, as drunk as he was, leaned back. 

He didn’t try to disagree, they _were_ one in the same. 

“Look at that,” a new voice yelled over the terrible vocals of drunk people, a tall man, tall as Shane came to Diana’s side, “ _donnie_ and clyde themselves, only they’re _catching_ bonnie and clyde.” 

“That’s terrible,” Ryan laughed out loud, his body shook with laughter as he hid himself into Shane’s chest. “Did you think of that on the spot?”

“Don’t question my jokes, officer,” Brent drunkenly quipped, waving his own drink around. His cheeks were flushed, or as flushed as they could be in the dim light, he held onto Diana’s shoulder for support, mumbling something about his short cousin.

Ryan didn’t focus on Brent longer than he should because Shane’s chest disappeared from his side. He frowned, bewildered where his boyfriend must have gone and turned only to see the sight of him requesting the microphone on the karaoke machine.

Suddenly fearing that he’ll humiliate him by declaring his love for Ryan in front of strangers, Ryan ran toward him.

He wasn’t going to declare his love for him. Well, if declaring his love for Ryan meant to blast _Shake Señora_ and pull him in halfway into the song and dancing with him around the makeshift bar area they had, then maybe, _maybe_ , he didn’t mind if he had.

The party went off without a hitch, or at least that’s what Ryan remembered. He spent the rest of the night with his co-workers and Shane, dancing and laughing together, taking shots—lots and lots of shots—and spending their holiday the best way they could.

By the time Ryan knew he needed Shane to lean on, he called it a night and took his tall boyfriend out of the building. They stepped into their room together, giggling under their drunken breaths and holding their arms over their shoulders. Shane sang _Shake Señora_ with the vocalization of barbaric men, singing straight into Ryan’s mouth when he kissed him.

Ryan tossed him away inside with a laugh, shushing him afterward even though he was just as loud.

“We’re going to get kicked out,” he blurted out, his body racked with laughter. He cleared out his throat and tried to compose himself, standing straighter with an obvious grin on his face, “we’re being annoying.”

Shane’s mouth pursed, his own laughter threatened to free itself, “mhm,” he nodded.

He was a mess. His head was disheveled from bouncing around with the damn microphone, his shirt was beyond saving, somewhere along the way he must of lost two of his buttons because the shirt was showing a lot more than Ryan could handle. 

He locked eyes with Shane, and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth but it was too late. Laughter filled the room after and Shane followed behind him, tears in their eyes and bending down to compose themselves. What were they laughing about? Fuck if Ryan knew. 

Whatever it was, it made him laugh hard enough to bump into Shane’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him by instinct and laughed into him, his own body trembling with chuckles until they subsided with Ryan in his arms. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan confessed, a giggle escaped him and he rested his forehead on Shane’s shirt, he felt Shane prop his chin on the top of his head. “I think I was laughing at you, I haven’t seen you dance like that before.”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Shane laughed, he moved his mouth over to Ryan’s hair, pressing a kiss into his dark locks. “You’re slurring your words.”

“Am I?” Ryan tiredly replied, he laughed once, “I guess I’m tired, big guy.”

Shane hummed again, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s back. “Come lay down and sober up a little before going to sleep.”

“If I lay down, I’ll fall asleep,” Ryan did what he was told anyway, pulling himself from Shane and unbuttoning his shirt, recklessly untucking it and removing it from his shoulders. He debated on taking off his pants but he tossed himself on the bed before he could think to do so. 

Ryan’s bare skin felt amazing on the cool bed cover, the pillows rested his throbbing head from all the laughter he had. He closed his eyes and moved on his side, what a night. It was a lot to hide his beating heart when he wasn’t drunk. He felt Shane fall onto the bed behind him, hearing him roll around the bed cover before resting his body close to Ryan’s.

With his chin on Ryan’s bare shoulder, he said: “you looked hot today. That’s what I wanted to say to you.”

“Are you taking back the ‘handsome’ compliment then?” Ryan nervously laughed.

Shane didn’t.

Instead, he pressed a kiss on Ryan’s shoulder, where his muscles flinched at the unusual warmth. He kissed him there again before pulling himself away. Ryan felt disappointed at the lack of when he felt a hand on him, heated and he twitched at Shane’s hand on his upper back.

“No,” Shane whispered, his hand moved, his fingers caressing Ryan’s shoulder. He pressed his hand there, making Ryan squirm at the suddenness again. He ran his fingers around Ryan’s back, tracing the way his muscles flexed as he twitched with every pinch or press of his fingers. When Shane’s fingers stopped on the base of his spine, Ryan licked his lips. 

He was gentle with him, he didn’t step over Ryan’s boundaries and yet, he experimented with him. He recorded every movement he made, each noise he made, and when Shane’s fingernails scratched over his spine, Ryan twisted himself, a low moan escaping his mouth. 

Embarrassed, he covered his face on the pillow as Shane brought his hand back on his back, patting it once.

“I’m going to wash up,” he muttered in Ryan’s ear, “I’ll be right back, try not to squish your stomach.” He kissed Ryan’s shoulder blade once more before he heard him stumble over the bed and to the bathroom.

Wow.

He was fucked. 

The next two days passed by Ryan before he could blink _._  After waking up with a hangover the size of Kentucky, he stayed in bed with Shane for most of day one. Shane slept, though Ryan woke him up whenever he wanted to, complaining that his head was hurting and that he felt like he was dying. 

When Shane thought it be best to calm him by giving him another massage, Ryan shut his mouth and let his boyfriend’s hands do the work for him. In his opinion, it was the only thing Shane was good for.

(He’s joking, but he loved the annoyed look on Shane’s face anyway.)

While he didn’t work the next day, he was scheduled for a morning shift on the second. Now November, Ryan tossed all the excitement for Halloween (and begun to plan to make up for piles of candy he consumed last night,) and prepared for the rest of the month. 

Diana sat him down early Thursday morning, telling him that during this month, Thanksgiving week in particular, they’d have lots of customers until December. From here on out, it’d get busier, meaning, all hands on deck— _meaning_ , Diana’s cousins and her friends are coming over to help out.

In other words, Ryan’s seasonal job was ending its course and those who he was filling for were coming back. This threw him in a spiral of emotions. What did he plan to do? Was he planning to stay or would he return to L.A with Shane? Where would he live? He didn’t even have a plan b job for fucks sake.

“It’s not good to worry yourself to death,” Jen told him, frowning. “You have that glassy look in your eye, if you want to cry, you can. We all understand.”

“Everything is moving too fast,” even though he wasn’t actually upset and the reason his eyes were glassy had been over the cold air, drying out his eyes, he sniffed to please her. “I don’t know if Shane would particularly want to return with Fate around.”

Jen huffed, “what do you want? Remember, it’s your life too.”

Did he want to go back to L.A?

His mother’s grave was there, her anniversary in a few weeks. Somehow he couldn’t delay that, he visited her in a particular time and date. He knew L.A like the back of his hand, from South to North Los Angeles, he grew up barefoot, running around the streets with coins in his dungaree or teaching himself how to ride a bicycle in front of his mother’s job.

Maybe he was feeling homesick. 

“I think I’d like to go back,” he addressed.

“Wow, really?” Jen paused, her transparent boots floated inches off the snow. It had snowed last night, _and_ last last night too. It just kept snowing, and the temperature kept dropping drastically as autumn was making its way into winter. “That was fast. You usually ponder over it for a while.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, tossing away the snowflakes on his hoodie. “Can’t say I miss the warmer air, the palm trees. The _beach_ , god. I miss my school, too.”

“It’s all there still, believe or not,” Jen laughed, “except, there had been sightings of Fate recently. Safer than sorry, what Shane said, of course.” 

Ryan scowled. He didn’t know this deity existed until a few days ago and she’s already becoming the pain in the ass he had wanted to avoid. “I’m not planning to pack my bags. I never spent my birthday at a resort before.”

“Ah, so you haven’t.” 

Ryan jumped, a scream left him as he whirled around, almost losing his balance on the slippery road. “What the fuck! Don’t _do_ that!”

Shane, the idiot of a boyfriend laughed, “sorry,” he continued to laugh, “I thought I was in this conversation.”

For it being under twenty degrees, Shane was wearing a button down under a navy denim jacket. He didn’t show any signs of freezing his ass off so Ryan scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at him, landing around his shoulder. “How long have you been here?”

“Ryan, I was behind the two of you since we left for lunch,” Shane watched the snow on his jacket fall to the ground, he pouted, “I was being silent.”

“Then you heard?"

“Loud and clear,” Shane nodded his head, “you must be homesick. Listen Ryan, there’s traffic everywhere.”

The urge to throw another snowball at his boyfriend was strong, though as he kept rambling, Ryan couldn’t help but hear him out.

After the fifth time he repeated 'we have to be safer than sorry', Ryan shut him up by telling him that he’ll stay for the remainder of November, or at least until his birthday. He had to visit his mother at some point.

“What about you?” Ryan asked him when they were in the heated dorm, by the entrance door. “Are you going to keep your big boy shoes here? Take up on skiing?”

“Where you go, I follow,” Shane replied indulgently, taking off his jacket, he accidentally raised his arms high enough to show a slight section of skin.

Ryan sized him up, from his long legs to the stubble he was growing. So they were alone again. “I think I’d exhausted my desires to ski; gotta say, this is the longest vacation I've had in years—whoa, your shoes are untied.” 

Bending down, Shane grabbed both of Ryan’s laces, when he did, Ryan glanced down. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m tying your shoes,” Shane tied his shoes, with the same skill that he expressed when tying Ryan’s tie. “You can trip, bud.”

“What is happening?” Ryan bent down too, crouching to make eye contact with Shane. The position was uncomfortable, his knees themselves screamed in protest but he wanted to understand what Shane was thinking. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t understand—”

“The back thing, the kissing before we leave, the _tying of_ shoes,” Ryan shook his head, “are you giving me hints? What’s going on here?” 

“You gotta give me more than that,” that sentence, in other circumstances, had annoyed Ryan before.

When they were angry at each other months ago over something ridiculously stupid, Shane would say _you gotta give me more than that_ whenever Ryan explained _why_ he didn’t like a particular thing. Here, Shane was smirking. 

Oh fuck. He was messing with him. He knew it! He—oh fuck, wait a minute. Does that mean he knows? 

Does he know—

_Listen Shane,_ Ryan desperately thought. In his case, he’s a healthy man, not as hormonal as he was in his teenage years but he was healthy, his mind functioned like every other human, he desired things from time to time. It wasn’t his fault that he was thinking of being intimate with his own boyfriend—

Ah, fuck it. Ryan, bent down on the floor of the damn dorm, leaned himself forward and tossed himself in Shane’s arms. Shane let out a surprised gasp before it was cut off by Ryan’s lips.

They kissed feverishly, allowing no time for breathing room, as they followed each other’s leads. It was a disaster for better words, Ryan was wearing too many layers and Shane’s shirt was a _button down_ , oh my god, “you wore this to spite me,” Ryan moaned into his lips.

Halfway into undressing each other, they pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. They breathed, their chests rapidly falling in sync as they took in the air around them.  

Ryan’s eyes fluttered open, catching sight of himself, his shirt halfway towards his chest and his shoes, untied and gone. Shane had most of his shirt but he looked as if Ryan placed him a wringer. He averted his eyes from Shane’s exposed chest and to his hair, his blown eyes and his reddened lips, covered in saliva. And, god, Ryan had never wanted another man in his life.

“I wasn’t teasing you at first,” Shane whispered to him, his hands on each side of Ryan’s backside. “It was fun to see you squirm.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ryan babbled, kissed him, “absolutely terrible. You _knew_ and didn’t tell me.” 

“I wanted to wait until we were alone,” Shane beamed, “we have to talk about this, you know that right?”

Ryan nodded, his heart beating faster than the speed of light. So this was it. “I know.”

“Do you want to have sex with me, Ryan?”

“Wow,” Ryan’s cheeks flushed hot, looking anywhere but his boyfriend’s eyes, “you don’t mince words.” 

When Shane didn’t reply and he didn’t have any other jokes to offer, Ryan took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, “yes.” 

The corners of Shane’s eyes crinkled as he smiled wider, his hands moved from his backside to his face, cradled his face in his hands. Shane ran his thumb over his skin, calming him and his insanely red cheeks. “You do?”

“I do.”

“You have to be—” Shane licked his lips. “You have to be absolutely sure.”

“I am,” Ryan narrowed his eyes, “do you—” oh my god, he didn’t want to say it.

It was a power in itself how Shane always brought the teenager in him, standing in his aunt’s spare room and cringing at his thin arms and lanky legs. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“I do,” Shane didn’t even hesitate. “I—I really, really do.”

Ryan kissed him, taking his lips in his again and opened his mouth when he felt Shane’s tongue on the side of his bottom lip. He lost track of him in between undressing and kissing, only when he hit the side of the bed with his legs, he pushed Shane away gently. “I actually don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I,” Shane confessed in a similar daze, “it’s been quite a while—understand that we’re free to stop one another if it gets overwhelming.”

“We—” Ryan swallowed, he was half on the bed, his knee placed on the bed as he made himself taller to look Shane directly in the eyes. His hands ran over his brown hair, softly moving around the strands and watching the way Shane leaned to his hand when he pulled a few strands, jerking them in his hands. “We don’t have to go all the way.” 

“No, we don’t,” Shane’s half-lidded eyes met his, it was his turn to capture Ryan’s lips in a bruising kiss. Longer than the last. Ryan tried to keep his hands on Shane’s hair as they stirred, when he jokingly clenched his hair and jerked his head to the side, Shane’s hand traveled over to his spine and pinched the skin.

One of one it seemed.

“We can stop anytime,” Ryan coaxed, shoving his shirt over his head and meeting Shane’s mouth. Shane kissed the side of his mouth, traveling over his cheek and down to his neck and the way Ryan twitched when _that_ happened was humiliating and he wanted to turn all the lights off in case anybody saw.

“Feel free to stop me,” Shane growled into his neck, his wet mouth on Ryan’s juglar, “I’ll stop you if I wanted to. For now, I give you permission to touch me—” he sucked a part of Ryan’s neck, marking him. His cool hand rested on Ryan's thigh and traveled to the rim of his briefs and caused Ryan to move his hips from the bed, flip them over so Shane would be under him. “—Baby.”

Ryan smiled, Actually, he preferred the lights on.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock on his office door at ten. By instinct, Shane grunted and waved his hand, opening the door magically as he kept his head lowered into his paperwork. Instantly regretting it, he winced and looked up to his assailant, begging that it would be Ryan.

Niki stood there, appalled, one arm lifted as she had knocked seconds ago. She grew pale but then looked at him, nervously laughing, “is that a sign that can I come in?” 

“Uh,” Shane fidgeted in his chair, “yes, yes, come in.”

Niki, his assistant, pivoted to the front of his desk and stacked _another_ folder next to the one he had been working on. Shane gravely smiled, pressing his back on the crease of his chair and twirled his pen in his hand.

“Don’t be passive aggressive with me,” she warned, bending down to pick up the folders Shane had finished. “We both want to go home to our loves ones.”

“I bet they’re sitting there, waiting for us.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Niki whined, as she stood, her stomach released a terrifying growl. “I’m—”

Shane bit back his laughter as she hung her head in shame, then hit the back of his head. “Work faster! I’m starving!”

“ _Me?_ Tell that to my boss!” He hollered, rubbing the back of his head, she hadn’t hit him necessarily but it would serve as an excuse to let Ryan massage his scalp later.

“I’m pretty sure you’re better at talking to him than I,” she shivered, “just close the door behind me with your magic powers, Madej, I’ll be filing the rest of these.”

Astonished, Shane nodded as she saluted him and walked away, her heels clicking on the squared floor. He didn’t close the door, yet, he left himself to steadily work on his paperwork. At a quarter to two in the morning, during Niki’s third visit, he opened the last folder with a sigh. 

Niki sat there quietly, she glared at his hand as it gradually marked contracts, or when he wrote his signature on the dotted lines. “What you did back there, earlier,” her voice echoed through his office, they were both surrounded by his dim light, granola bar wrappers and a shit load of papers. “With the _door_.”

“I magically opened it, yes,” Shane nodded, “I told you that I studied witchcraft as a minor back in college,” he joked lightly, when Niki grew silent, he came to the realization that she must have believed him. Well, it was a whole lot easier than explaining that he’s an immortal deity. 

“That’s the third time you’ve done it this week,” Niki continued after a moment of silence, she resumed her own filing out, revising the areas that Shane must have missed in his sleep-deprived state. “At first it was surprising, now? I’ve gotten used to it, though you’ve got to be careful, not everyone here would be delighted with your witch powers.”

“I prefer the term, apprentice,” Shane grinned, “I never officially got my degree.”

Niki gave him a haughty look, unamused with his joke. “I’m serious, what would you do in the future when somebody sees you opening doors from your desk?”

“They wouldn’t think of witchcraft like you did,” Shane indicated, pointing his pen at her, “you came to that conclusion quickly.” 

“You’ve been strange since I got here months ago. You practicing witchcraft isn’t as surprising at you would think.”

Shane shrugged his shoulders, his eyes skimmed through the words quickly, the contract was linking his company to another. He’d saved the most important folder as a reward for his hard work, though, now as the words blended into one, he’d grown to regret it. He heard Niki’s voice, muttering to him as he continued to read, when he offered no reply, Niki spoke again. 

“Shane, are you there? I asked what you actually studied.”

“Business,” he told her. That wasn’t true, he never studied in Los Angeles, much less hadn’t studied since New York, but he had a business degree stashed away somewhere.

“And you landed here? What do you want to do after this?” 

_Great question_ , Shane thought. His mind actually twisted her words for him, he never really thought of that until now, since he had ripped up his previous travel list, _then_ another list after Ryan left him, he had nothing in mind. Much less for his future, since he was immortal, he’ll live through Ryan’s life until he grew old at one-hundred— 

Oh. 

_That_. That was a sacred conversation that they had yet to have. He hadn’t thought of his life after Ryan dies, _if_ Ryan died, if Shane hadn’t given in and resurrected him every chance he got.

(He couldn’t do that, Ryan’s soul would be corrupt in the end, he didn’t deserve _that_.) 

Now in a foul mood, Shane shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, open my own law firm, maybe.”

Pleased with his answer, Niki continued to work in silence. It took Shane a few more minutes to his own before he could resume filling out signatures. When they both finished, Niki stood up first. 

“I’ve had three granola bars in the last twenty minutes,” Niki claimed, taking the folders in hand, adjusting her collared shirt and took her heels in hand. She had been wearing a suit today, though, she became impatient with Shane’s handiwork that she refused to walk in six inch heels anymore, much less in a stuffy office building with wearing a blazer.

“I ate five of them in twenty minutes,” Shane commented, rubbing his hands all over his face. “I’m so fucking tired. I haven’t had a chance to tell Ryan that I’ll be getting there late.”

“Same here,” Niki agreed, “Gabi told me that she was worried about me, she went to sleep on behalf of me.”

“I knew martial energy was real. Ryan refused to believe it.” 

“It is,” Niki giggled on her way to the door, heels hanging over her shoulder, folders neatly tucked in her arm. She looked as if she were posing for a magazine, “I feel ten times better now that she’s asleep, see you tomorrow, gramps.”

_Gramps_.

A thousand and fifty years old and Shane still never knew what he planned to do with his future. It may be a metaphor, some poor schmuck of a college student would relate to him now, telling him that they wanted to retire at twenty-two with ten cats, maybe a farm, and hey, Shane would tell them not to because taking care of ten cats _and_ a vacant lot of grassland was hard work. 

(It was fun, sure, for the first two days. Shane moved out of there the second he’d realized that he was promised a whole lot of nothing and _hay_ in his trousers for the next month and a half. Even then, in 1840, Shane didn’t know what he wanted or what he _liked_ to do.)

But one thing's for sure.

Shane fucking hated paperwork.

His shoes squeaked as he stepped on the dry pavement, he’d been in Los Angeles for a less than a day and he’s already began to regret it.

Shane admitted, he missed the ol’ cabin in Dodge Ridge, the warmth of the fire as he talked to Ryan into the night, the smell of smoke dissipating into the air as they slept, cuddled more like. Now that he returned, Shane had taken himself to plead for mercy for his job back.

Though, he wasn’t out of a job, he knew that. And (he didn’t beg for mercy,) manipulated his boss’ tiny ol’ little head into thinking that Shane hadn’t existed for three months. Oh well, nobody would know.

The second he had returned to his office, Shane had a stack of paperwork waiting for him, it sat there, covered in dust and he accepted his demise. He sat there for most of his day, recollecting himself and keeping an eye out.

He could say that their relationship had gotten stronger, they’ve talked in Dodge Ridge, revealed secrets that nobody else would ever listen in their lives. It was only fair, Shane had been lying to him from day one, even as he confessed, he knew that he wasn’t being as honest as he wanted to be. In the end, he loved Ryan and he’ll do anything to keep him happy.

Ryan is living with him currently, because he had terminated his contact for Kelsey’s old apartment and his aunt in Sacramento, he had nowhere to go. Shane snorted, it wasn’t like he’ll be as heartless to leave Ryan in the streets, he’ll punch himself if it ever came to that—if Ryan ever left him suddenly, he might.

Shane rubbed his eyes with his fingers, pressing his thumb on his eyelid as he yawned. He couldn’t wait to return home to Ryan. 

It had been a year since he’d seen him for the first time. A _year_. How time flies when you’re immortal and have no sense of direction. 

Ryan turned twenty-seven the day before that, he kissed Shane when he bought him an ice cream cake and when Ryan claimed that he would loved to have sex with him, he dragged him into the bedroom, (well, _the_ dorm in Dodge Ridge.)

Now that he thought about it, he really wanted to go home. 

Leaving Dodge Ridge was an adventure and a half. Ryan worked for the remaining weeks of November, turning in his final two weeks before his birthday. Diana was sad, of course she was, she cried on the both of them for three days straight and bought them a ticket for the bus back home.

(And to not let her money go to waste, Shane and Ryan took that bus home instead of teleporting.)

Arriving at Los Angeles with five layers of coats and droopy eyes, Ryan and Shane went their separate ways after they got home together. He knew that Ryan wanted to keep to himself today, considering that he was busy visiting his mother. Shane understood, Ryan was crying a year ago today for her, knowing that he was alone and could express those emotions on his own. 

He needed his own space, too. That’s why Shane took the long way home, making sure that Ryan had more time.

Still, he couldn’t wait to see him.

Shane continued on his walk, he took a few steps forward when he realized that he wasn’t sure where he was. He was tired, sometimes when he got out from work at two in the morning, he’ll walk around without a care in the world.

(He ended up in San Monica one time.) 

He shrugged his shoulders and turned his heel when he froze. The wind picked up, blasting him with the cool breeze of November, leaves below him scraped against the concrete as he blinked at an old house. He never seen this house before, yet he couldn’t take his eyes away from it. 

It’s walls crumbled into itself, the door unhinged, swung opened and the gate locked with a padlock. The yard was a disaster, tall grass engulfed the area, vines tangled themselves with the trash bin in the corner, and to the tricycle that laid abandoned. No, he was mistaken, he’d seen this house before.

Before he could recall, he felt eyes on him and he whirled around to his side. A woman stood there, her crimson suit matched her lips, tan skin aglow in the night, street lamp above her. She made no sound, her mouth didn’t twitch as Shane snarled at her. Her eyes darted from him and back to the house for a moment.

“Goblin,” she called, tone deep as the hate he felt for her. “We meet once more.”

_Fuck. Fuck_. Fuck.

“It could have been avoided,” Shane responded dryly, bringing down his blood pressure, “I was on my way home.”

“Yet, you’re here,” she rolled her eyes and turned back to him. She bowed half-heartedly, tucking a strand of her hair when she stood upright. “It is a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

Bullshit. She planned this. She told him to come and he did. He gave her no reply and grounded his jaw, averting his eyes to the punctured house, it was light blue in color, it had been empty for years. 

This was Ryan’s childhood house.

“You’ve never seen it?” The woman questioned him, she didn’t care.

Her voice was indifferent to anybody who spoke to her, let alone any human who ever crossed her. She was Fate. She had been around longer than Shane himself, born from God’s grace. Fate controlled the lives of humans without them knowing. She’d follow them around, torture them like a lunatic, and waited for their doom. 

“No, I don’t know where I am,” Shane lied, the last thing he wanted was to piss her off. She was always livid, the longer she’d spent in Earth, the angerier she was. Shane knew that every time they crossed paths, disaster struck. “I was passing through.”

However, the corners of Fate’s lips twitched into a lopsided grin, “filthy liar.” 

Shane tried not to let her words faze him as he tried to turn away again. Though, her appearance at Ryan’s old, _old_ house, the one where his mother died in was suspicious.

“I read minds, too,” she affirmed. “This is Ryan Bergara’s childhood home.”

“Don’t—” Shane lifted his hand as a warning.

“I am not here to threaten you. Nor am I here to take your life, goblin.”

“Don’t call me that either,” Shane swore, he ran a hand through his hair. “What do you require from me?”

“Not gold. However, I don’t assume that you have any,” her voice was flat as she taunted him.

Everything about her was still, her posture never faltered. Even centuries before when they’d seen each other in Paris, she’d growled at him with fury that he’d been afraid at the time, her calm self with her words were dangerous, even for him.

“What do you require of me?” He echoed, she kept her silence.

“You and I don’t have a pleasant past,” she squinted her eyes as if she’d remembered Paris. Yeah, I bet she would, Shane almost ripped out her trachea. “I am here to warn you, not because I care or want to. Because of that man—”

“What the hell are you—” Shane groaned, “stop speaking like that, get on with it.”

Her nostrils flared with annoyance, “speak to me like that again, goblin—”

“And what? You’d kill me?” Shane hissed, he pivoted to her. She wasn’t as tall as he was, though her heels helped her grow a couple inches in height. She narrowed her brown eyes at him as soon as he pointed at her. “You and your boss shall leave me be, haven’t you done enough damage?”

“You’re the one with the grudge,” she retorted, “I hold no hate towards you or Paris.”

“Paris!” He bellowed, throwing his arms in the air, “if you have anything to do with Steven’s—”

“I had failed to defy him. That man is the least of my worries, now, you should hear what I have to say.”

Shane swallowed, his mouth twisted into a smirk as he stepped away. He was exhausted, he was, he wasn’t here to deal with Fate’s bullshit and much less _God’s_. Still, he kept his silence as she looked at Ryan’s house, recognition dawned on her face.

“Ryan Bergara is your betrothed.”

“He is,” Shane had no reason to lie, every deity, every god and goddess knew that before him.

“I suppose that you’re both settled,” Fate went on, “I hear that you’re both in a relationship.”

“I didn’t know that deities gossiped.”

Fate showed no amusement and rather nibbled on her bottom lip. Shane didn’t know if she was humiliated or if she was trying to keep their conversation civilized. There wasn’t a possible way though, the longer Shane stood there, looking at her, he wanted to do what he couldn't in Paris.

“I suggest you don’t,” she blankly told him, then, “you are infatuated with him.” 

“I love him.”

“That is not what you’re supposed to do.”

“Do you think I care?" 

“Would you care if Ryan Bergara’s life was involved?” 

“If it is, it is none of your business. I know what you have done, threatening Steven’s health against me and if you do the same to Ryan—in case you hadn’t forgotten,” Shane growled out, his throat raspy from the intensity of his anger, “I am as old as you. I had killed deities with my hands before.”

“None have died, you lying—” 

“I am no liar,” Shane interrupted, “I have disintegrated men and women, I am not afraid of God and his wrath, I had gone against him and I am not afraid of doing so again. What would he do? Kill me? Curse me?”

Fate’s posture faltered, her fists balled to her sides and her forehead creased. She relaxed after a second's notice when she spoke: “No. He would not. He would take Ryan Bergara from you.”

“ _Don’t_ even dare—” 

“You use his name in vain,” she disclosed, locked eyes with him. “You curse _his_ name.”

“If you think about—”

“Ryan Bergara is a lost soul, he was supposed to die. Though, you interfered.”

“I saved his life!” 

“Now he will die by your hands. Years later and you still haven’t realized?” Fate laughed, her chuckle compared to a swear word unspoken, “Ryan Bergara was sentenced to his death the second you resurrected him.”

“You deem me as a liar, yet you speak so confidently.”

“I only speak the truth, goblin, must have _you_ forgotten? Hadn’t he been in danger a year prior? Hadn’t he been hurt by your hand? Hadn’t he almost die of hyperthermia? You tie them together, he will die because you are alive.”

Shane bit his lip painfully, he tried not to show it, but he saw everything she had told him.

“How did you know—” 

“I know everything, you bastardly child of a man,” she snarled, clenching her jaw.

She was seething with anger at him, though she had the advantage here and she knew it. “Ryan Bergara’s life is on a wire, one that you control. Every time his life is in peril, I hear of it from the gods above. Every time I believe his time is to end, you interfere.”

He heard Ryan’s call for him through the flame, screaming his name, he remembered how useless he felt when he knew that Andrew didn’t know where he was. He remembered when he had hurt him, almost slammed him to the solid sidewalk when he grasped the sword’s hilt for the first time. And months later, when Ryan’s former boss found him pale, cold, nearly lifeless in a chair, dying alone.

It was all because of him. 

“Why?” He whispered, tears welled up in his eyes as he turned his head away from Fate’s cruel gaze. “Why so suddenly?”

“It had always been like this,” Fate fumed, “you’ve never seen it. The moment you saved him from death’s door, his own fate was sealed. Ryan Bergara’s soul will be mine, as it was years ago, as it is now—he never belonged to you. The longer you continue living, the shorter his life will be.”

Shane opened his mouth to reply, though he shook his head in desperation.

They were _fine_ , everything was _okay_. Ryan’s smile crossed in his mind, the way he looked at Shane when he dressed up for Halloween, the way he looked at him when he saw him after three months apart how he wanted to crush him in his embrace, he saw everything, they were fine. 

“You must die. Or he will. That is Fate and God’s will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](https://mlnseo.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I apologize for the long wait! Classes started recently but I finally got around to editing and finishing the final three chapters of the fic. I'm so sad that it's about to end, but I'm excited to write one-shots and /not/ chaptered fics until I have enough time to!
> 
> I was watching Aria's live stream yesterday and my heart almost stopped when Ryan mentioned his auntie lol. If you want to see Ryan and Shane too, [the link is here!!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_wZo3CpQVY)
> 
> Thank you all for waiting patiently! And for reading too! Apologizes for any spelling errors!
> 
> unbeta'd

“Thanks for the Christmas cards, boss,” Niki waved the set of decorative cards, plastered with funky fonts and a cartoonish Christmas tree. Shane wrote a thoughtful message in each one, until he got tired of overthinking it and wrote the same words on Steven’s card, he wouldn’t mind.

(Though, he did send him over ten polaroids of Ryan and Shane messing with his old room, he’ll mind that.) “I didn’t know witches celebrated Christmas.”

A corner of Shane’s mouth lifted, deities don’t celebrate anything. Unless they were masking as human beings and roamed Earth, otherwise, a human holiday was the least of their worries. Shane would know.

“I don’t,” he lied, “I thought I’d embarrass Ryan a little bit by sending couple cards for Christmas.” (That last part was true.)

Running a hand through his beard, Shane looked away from a folder on his desk and over to his tame assistant. She continued to stand on the doorway, an opened card in her hands and a fond smile as she read it diligently. “At least one of us appreciates my creative mind.”

“Oh definitely,” she laughed, still focused on the card, “you wrote an _entire_ story about a hot dog, I know you must have missed Ryan’s note on the side deeming you as absolutely insane.”

Pleased that he annoyed Ryan, he returned to his work. He signed the last few lines Niki had marked for him and closed the folder, he lifted it over for her to take and smiled. “Thanks Niki, head home in half an hour, alright?” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she waved the card around again, “I’ll send my regards to Gabi. See you tomorrow!” 

Thankfully, Niki had the right idea and closed Shane’s office door behind her. When he heard the lock, he covered his mouth with his hand, scratching his unshaven jaw. He peered at the documents on his desk and tossed them away, revealing the list and map he had been working on underneath.

The map was labeled by red marks, pinpointed locations in Los Angeles, labeled with Jen’s handwriting with either _checked, nothing_ or _have yet to check_. The list he wrote was nearby, this time with his own handwriting, listing the diverse areas on the map and also other locations outside of the city. A good half of them were crossed out, marking the end of the search in said places.

This location _had_ to be it. There wasn’t anything that suggested otherwise.

Shane twirled the pen around his fingers, nodding to himself and waited at least another half hour. He heard the commotion outside, zipping of backpacks and jackets, employees spoke amongst each other as they walked out. He stood from his chair, took his blazer and opened the door to his office. 

Crossing over to the other side (not before hiding the map and list in his coat pocket), he found himself in South Los Angeles, closer to the beach with a short twenty minute drive. He double-checked if this was the place and Shane closed the door of the abandoned building he emerged from.

Lots of houses, all of them stuck together and aligned with wooden or wired fences. The area was filled with graffiti and murals of lustrous colors, palm trees root-bound in house's backyards. He teleported himself in the alleyway of said houses, and if he turned around and walked fifteen minutes out of the neighborhood, he’ll end up in Ryan’s childhood home.

Hearing the South L.A's river, he began to stroll casually to the source. It was getting dark soon so he had to hurry. He only prayed that Jen was already stationed there waiting for him. 

He saw the bridge first, long and elongated over a green, swampy river, filled with ducklings and moss. It flowed in the way a river should, and he stepped on the bridge. Splashes of water hit him as he stood on the edge, blocked out by a lanky metal fence to make sure children didn’t fall over.

Ryan described it the way he saw it, lonely, tranquil and seperated the neighborhood he lived in from the suburban houses and his public elementary school. He sat here with a woman his mother knew for nine years of his childhood—a woman who hasn’t been heard of since—and something told Shane that she was still around.

Yet, she wasn’t here.

“Well?”

“She’s not here,” Shane sneered, the sun rested in the horizon reflected in the water, the soft colors in the mixed with the green river. He understood why Ryan loved to spend his time here. Shane imagined a younger boy, with the same inky black hair running around the bridge without fear of falling over into the river.

“I figured,” beside him, Jen sighed, she folded her arms around herself and looked over to the river, too. “That’s another one, Madej—should I stay a while longer? Go home to Ryan and I’ll call you if I see anything?” 

“No,” he declined, holding out the list he had in his coat and crossed over _Ryan’s childhood bridge_ :  _might be there_ with his pen. “You’re not going to be alone with her, I don’t know what she’ll do if she finds out you’re here.”

“She doesn’t know me,” Jen pointed out, _still_ Shane looked at her and shook his head. He didn’t want Jen’s spiritual blood in his hands, he was fond of her and he wanted to confront Fate himself. 

If she revealed herself to him again.

He jammed the list away in his pocket and turned to Jen, who was wearing sunglasses, though sporting the same outfit she always had. If she put her ghost abilities to use, she could get herself a new outfit—but the _good_ in her told her that she didn’t want to steal.

“What’s with the sunglasses?”

“Thought they'd make me look cool,” Jen messed with the lenses, her eyes by reflected pink eyepieces. “I’m a detective, gotta play the part.” 

Shane raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. He guessed that were true, “I'm calling it a night, detective,” he said to her, the sun completely hidden by the horizon now, “it’s getting late and you should go home. I’ll be going home to Ryan.” 

“Don’t tell him we’re almost done with the list—”

“I will tell him,” Shane hinted, “it only means that we’ll start from the beginning.”

“He’ll be sad.”

Shane sighed, “it’s okay,” then he smiled at her widely. Giving her some sort of comfort in any of this, “he’ll tell us that we’re the worst detectives.”

“That's not true! We're good detectives!”

With Jen rambling in his ear, he walked her to the abandoned building and teleported them back to outside his house.

(When they started their daily investigations, Jen hadn’t gotten used to teleporting, if anything she was _worse_ than Ryan when it came down to the dreadful nausea.)  

“Hey,” he called out into his house, the lights in the kitchen and living room were both on, and as he walked around the entrance, he saw Ryan sitting here. Laptop on the coffee table, newspapers sprawled around him. Dressed in what Shane saw him wearing this morning, one of his signature basketball shorts and a muscle shirt.

Ryan looked up when Shane walked in, smiling and greeting him properly. Standing up from the couch, he skipped his way over to Shane and hugged him, “hey, I hope you have better news than I do.”

“Unfortunately, we’re both at a stand-still,” Shane kissed Ryan’s cheek and pulled away from the embrace, he was hungry, and knowing Ryan, he would have waited to eat dinner together. 

“Nothing?” Ryan hesitated, he walked to the counter and stood there, elbows on the marble. “I’m sorry Shane, I think we should stop looking.”

“She couldn’t have gotten far,” Shane pressed, “deities don’t disappear into thin air.”

“Yeah... but she _threatened_ you. She told you that she _can_ hurt you, please don't give her an opportunity to hurt you.”

Shane glowered at the leftover chicken he had in front of him, “I won’t, baby,” he reassured, serving up the dinner he ate last night to himself and his boyfriend. The heavy promise of Fate’s words and Ryan’s troubled thoughts prowled in his mind as they ate, chewing slowly than usual and forcing himself to smile at Ryan.

“What’s her deal anyway? What did you do to her to make this angry at you?”

Shane swallowed, what did he _not_ do to her?

“She’s second in command when it comes to the almighty man upstairs,” he imparted, “I met her in Paris centuries ago. She told me that I was being reckless with my duties as a deity; then proceeded to tell me that she would have me replaced in a heartbeat. I think what pissed her off was when I told her she _didn’t_ have a heart.”

“Why did she bother to speak with you?”

“Fuck all knows,” Shane lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, “deities have no weakness, they have no desire to human life. She doesn’t give a fuck about anything. We never got along, she’d threaten me and somewhere I drunkenly told her that I'd rip her throat out.”

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan gasped, “you didn’t.”

“No,” Shane smirked, “not yet.”

Paris was close though, his hand twitched with desire to kill her. She had no right to speak to him in the way that she does. Not when her boss had resurrected him in the first place, cursed _him_. And then she leaves? Deities are moronic cowards, no different from humans.

Only three weeks had passed since he’d run into her. She left immediately after she completed her task, though, it seemed a bit controversial to float around L.A for _months_ looking for Shane for one petty threat towards him. He had convinced himself that she was watching them, making sure that he’s committed to his side of the bargain.

He wasn’t.

It hadn’t crossed his mind to tell Ryan, though it had hit him. What use would there be to tell Ryan that he’ll die if he was with Shane?

The man would probably tell him that he would willingly die for him and that’s not what Shane wanted. He told Ryan what happened with Fate, coming home stumbling around after talking to her, he told him that she threatened him and that she knew where he lived and worked. 

Leaving the part out where Ryan’s death was inevitable with him alive, Ryan didn’t allow him to leave his house until he knew for _sure_ she was gone. By the time he went back to work, he gathered the search party (Jen) and wrote down the locations around L.A she might have been hiding at.

Ryan was supportive, he dragged out their hunt as far as he could. Without complaint, he kept an eye open himself whenever he left the house to go to the gym, out to visit Steven, visiting Kelsey or to an interview. He was better than Shane was, cheerfully moving on with his life from Dodge Ridge and back to what he knew in L.A. He worked hard to look for a job, but the holiday season interfered and Ryan busied himself with other things until Christmas ended.

He's doing so well. He was only twenty seven. He can’t _die_.

Shane exhaled for the thousandth time that day, glanced up at the ceiling and to Ryan, sleeping next to him on the bed. Completely still, he was on his back with his hands over his stomach, the light from the lamp didn’t bother him as he slept.

He can’t die. Ryan deserved to live longer than him.

But if Shane were to leave him, what would stop his enemies from getting to him? Whether Shane liked it or not, all those _ghosts_ and deities knew Ryan Bergara and they wouldn’t hesitate to grab him with their filthy hands.

At that moment, Shane decided that he should buy groceries. At eleven at night—yeah, he’s going to the supermarket. He dressed himself, turning off the lamp and closing the door to his bedroom softly to let Ryan rest.

Once outside his house, he faced the deity he had dreaded to see. 

“Why did you summon me?”

“Trust me,” he breathed out, “I don’t want to see you either.” 

Andrew drummed his fingers on the column he leaned on, he didn’t reply to him. Still, he was _here_ and that somehow meant that Shane could trust him? In a way? He went out of his way to look for Ryan and found him.

(Well, found Brent and Brent by omission told him where Ryan was.)

“I need to go to the supermarket,” Shane declared, “I’d appreciate if you came along.”

“Why?” Andrew looked at the door behind Shane, “Bergara isn’t feeling up to it?”

“I have to speak with you privately at the supermarket,” Shane beckoned, “I have to buy vegetables too, killing two birds with one stone.”

“Would you kill me once you have your groceries?”

“I can’t promise you that I won’t.”

Shane hanging out with other deities (unironically) was always a recipe for disaster. If he was in a room with _one_ of them alone, their powers would swirl together into this orb of chaos.

Shane would let it happen, for if whoever was in the room with him made a move to hurt him, he had the orb on his side. Every deity knew that he had the gift to destroy them.

Andrew knew this. So, Shane understood his reluctance when he asked him to follow him. Acting like a human, this one, when he’s a deity who reaps souls. Though, Andrew has committed felonies in Shane’s mind that he would be convicted of instant death—from threatening his life countless times and to go as far as telling _Ryan_ the truth. 

Andrew was still scared of him.

“You live like a human,” Andrew gaped at him, he observed as Shane wrapped up his vegetables with a white paper towel and into a plastic bag. Meticulously picked out vegetables that Ryan had shown to like, and moving the cart onto the next aisle. “I’m convinced that you don’t know you’re a deity.”

“After living for thousands of years, I had no choice but to adapt and hide within the humans,” Shane informed indulgently, he examined a carton of mushroom slices and shrugged, throwing them in the cart anyway, “there was little I could do at the time.”

“I met you in the battlefield, in the middle of bloodshed,” Andrew told him, walking away from him for a second and crinkled his nose to the immovable cart of fruits. “You seemed to fit in quite well, although, you didn’t know what you were doing. much less how to hold a gun. Now you're handpicking fruits at the grocery store.”

Shane released a growl from his throat, his eyebrows knitted but he concentrated on the products in front of him. Ryan loved strawberries, so he’ll get a carton of them. “What's your point here? I’m more accustomed with a sword,” he then joked, a bit calmer with Ryan in his mind, “you and I both know this.”

Andrew grew silent, squinting his eyes, “I assume that is why you must speak with me?”

He walked in pace with Shane, the cart’s wheels screeched in the almost-empty supermarket, the lights brighter than they would be in the day time. He didn’t elaborate his question, not even when Shane didn’t give him a reply.

Once he was in the cereal aisle, looking for a box of nothing but sugar, he nodded, “it is about the sword, about the curse,” he tossed whatever he saw first onto the cart then whirled around to face Andrew. 

Andrew’s demeanor hadn’t changed in centuries, his face expressionless from emotions unless he were to be in danger. He held his black hat in his hand, fingers grasping the hood of the hideous accessory. “Fate spoke with you.”

Shane’s eyes flickered with annoyance, “you told her where I lived.” 

“Absolutely not,” Andrew’s mouth twisted into a half smirk, letting out a single laugh before composing himself. “She knows all. Even I do not know where she roams. Though, as this is my territory, I will know if a deity stepped into it.” 

Shane swore under his breath, “fine, _fine_. I get _it_ , I accept whatever you both want from me. I know that you’d feed on my soul the second I die, and _whatever_! Do it, who cares! But once I am gone from existence, she’ll strike for Ryan first.” 

Andrew blinked, “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Shane let out a mirthless laugh, anxiety bubbling in his chest as he tried to gather the words he wanted to say and words he _didn’t_ want to say. It’s difficult for him to ask for a favor to a deity, but to be vulnerable—offer himself on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth?

It was risky.

“Fate presented her case, it is what you want and what she wants. For me to die— though, when Ryan’s life is on the line, I will not die until I know he’s safe.”

“Ryan—what does he have to do with this?” Andrew asked, confusion crossed his face, reaching his eyes and he dropped his tense stance, “only the goblin’s betrothed removes the blade. Ryan—”

“Ryan will die if he _doesn’t_ ,” Shane interrupted, “he’s on thin ice, I believe that you must of known that.”

“I—believe me when I say I did not,” Andrew remarked, Shane’s eyes narrowed at him, studied for any sign of lie or deceit in his face. Andrew hadn’t been afraid to show that he was lying, he didn’t have anything to lose, so when Shane could catch no lie, he was surprised to say the least. 

“As a lost soul,” Andrew began, “Ryan’s soul will have trouble to move on unless I myself transfer his soul. If Fate intends to take him, he would be lost forever.” 

Shane bowed his head, he rested his hands on the cart’s handlebar and leaned onto it. “I know. That’s why I’m accepting death.”

“But you will not die unless somebody guarantees Ryan’s safety.” Shane nodded, “why would you come to me? After what I had done to you? To him?”

Shane thought about it, processed said question in his mind countless times. He raised his head and straightened himself to his tall stature, “I don’t know. Who else could I trust? You are not fond of Fate as I recall, you would not pass Ryan’s soul to her, you can’t kill him because that would defy your orders.”

He stopped, he shut his eyes tightly. _Fuck_ , why was it so difficult to admit defeat?

Why the fuck did Fate have to say those words to him? No, maybe it was for the best. Who knows if Ryan suddenly died on him and he didn’t know it was his fault? Ryan deserved to live a long life with nothing but happiness. Shane couldn’t see himself in Ryan’s future if that’s what he wanted for him.

“Unless I die myself,” Shane smiled softly, “take this as an act of sacrifice, I will die and you’ll promise that you’ll leave Ryan alone, everyone will leave him be. He has nothing to say on the matter and I am the problem at hand. Without me, Ryan will live in _peace_ , when he dies as an old man, you will take him and he will rest. Those are my conditions.”

Andrew remained quiet, blinked in bewilderment at Shane as he absorbed his words. Feeling hot in he face—his cheeks scarlet from embarrassment—he moved the cart to the end of the aisle, hearing Andrew follow behind. He scavenged his groceries in silence, picking out the things that he enjoyed as well as Ryan did.

A bit too domestic, especially as he had told a reaper that he was willing to die if Ryan was safe. He wouldn’t shop anymore, he wouldn’t act like he was a human, he will be dead, nothing but ashes.

“Do you suppose that I’ll keep an eye on him too?” Finally, after minutes of mutual silence, Andrew asked him when he was close to finish.

It surprised Shane and he looked up from comparing two different cans of beans. “You wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I will not. You said so yourself, I would defy my orders to never lay a hand on human flesh,” Shane cringed, why did he have to word it like that?

“Amusing that you, of all deities, would sacrifice yourself for a human. I accept your conditions and I will be true to my word and take Ryan’s soul, however—” Andrew paused, he looked away from Shane and to the cart, taking out the box of cereal he tossed in before.

“I do not think it is wise to plan such idiocy without consulting the human first,” Andrew hurled the cereal box on the floor, letting it slide a few feet away from them. “He would be hurt if you choose to die suddenly, you must speak with Ryan Bergara.”

Shane’s face went blank, “I didn’t know you cared about his feelings." 

“I don't. You do,” Andrew retorted, then he pointed at the fallen cereal box with his finger. “I believe that you had told me that Ryan despised that kind of cereal during the summer.”

With that, Andrew put his black hat on and turned around, disappearing into mid-air after he took a generously amount of time walking away.

Shane looked at the cereal box, sprawled on the floor like it had been left there by a child whose mother had told him that she was not going to buy it for them. He thought about it, Ryan didn’t like bland cereal, he liked marshmallows. Turning the cart around he walked back into the cereal aisle, heart heavier than it was hours before.

 

* * *

 

The holiday season.

Once again, Ryan’s caught in the masquerade of bright scenic lights and hoards of people flooding the streets with shopping bags. Everybody he had spoken to lifted his spirits instead of spiraling him down into a foul mood, loved ones heading home, and the final weeks of the year loomed on everybody’s shoulders with promises of starting anew.

Though, Ryan started anew every other _day_.

To him, the year had changed him for sure, being as he had seen new cities, new towns, meet new people, tasted every possible type of sandwich offered to him. 2017 was the year where he began dating Shane Madej, a deity who didn’t _believe_ in the new year.

Every year for him was a torturous reminder that he’ll never die, immortal and unable to age. All the wise, Ryan was going to be thirty in two years. 

He shook his head, why the hell did he have to think of that now? When he’s on a ladder stacking up tinsel for Kelsey. Again.

“Look at you, you’re not wavering anymore,” she shouted from the ground. To tease him for being superstitious, she walked through the ladder. He glared at her but continued to tape down the atrocious color of green tinsel, “I was afraid you’d fall this year.” 

“I am appalled that you didn’t change your ways,” Ryan joked and wordlessly asked for another piece of tinsel.

Kelsey gave it to him with a smile, running off afterward to another box on the counter. Tasty’s hadn’t changed, apart from the lighter green shade that Kelsey painted on the white walls, it was still the same. No renovations, Kelsey liked it that way, and she loved to celebrate the holiday season. 

“I never will,” she grinned, folding the empty box and placing it on the floor for later. “I just didn’t have you to help me out, took me half the _month_ to get it like this! How’s the job search by the way? I’m not convinced that you came all the way down here to visit me.” 

“I _did_ ,” Ryan protested. He had walked from his previous interview to Tasty to talk to Kelsey, and also to hide himself from the rain.

Thankfully, the weather controlled itself—not a emotional deity living under the roof of Los Angeles—and rain was an unstoppable force that Shane couldn’t control. No matter how dry his cheeks were.

“And it’s fine, I got a call yesterday asking if I’d come in for an interview, another one asked if I could start in January—I’d never seen my phone blow up since I’ve met you.”

“Thank you,” Kelsey undid her ponytail, shaking around her blonde locks, “you could always come back, you can be our janitor.”

Ryan laughed, that would be something. Living with Shane involved a lot of housework. Since he was out of a job for now, he taken his new hobby to cleaning and learning to prepare meals for himself. It would end up _fine_ , but cleaning had tired him out and he’d been lazy to continue, leaving the broom around for Shane to pick up later.

Sometime during the beginning of the month, Ryan found Shane’s old textbooks, lined with highlighter stains and post-it notes in his handwriting. It was in Italian, _teaching_ Americans how to speak Italian. Thrilled, he decided to keep it and teach himself as another hobby. Worth it, because Shane was now speaking to him in Italian every second he had, his nicknames for Ryan in fluent pronunciation, and whenever they were alone it was _marvelous_.

However—in the domestic Bergara-Madej household—there were still moments that Shane looked uncomfortable. He hid to himself whenever he wanted to, Ryan let him be, though it troubled him that Shane would overthink himself to death.

Just a few days ago, Shane had returned from work, depressed as one could be. Told Ryan that he was planning to tell him soon of _whatever_ it was that was bothering him but the next day, it was forgotten in Shane’s mind.

Yesterday, Ryan himself walked in on Shane staring at his phone, as if he wanted to call somebody. And when Ryan announced his presence, Shane told him he wanted to call Steven and tell him something—he didn’t. It almost seemed like he couldn’t.

Apart from Shane’s inability to open about it, things were fine. In Ryan’s eyes, they still joked together, ate meals together, and slept in the same bed together. Whenever they were in different locations, they’d have their breathing room, only to return and talk about their day at night.

Hopefully, Shane could tell him what was going on his head, they had all the time in the world and Ryan was going to wait even if it kills him.

The bell atop of Tasty’s door rang, throwing Ryan into a nostalgic dream and he instinctively turned his head over to greet whoever had walked in. The words died in his mouth and he smiled widely, relaxing at the sight of his boyfriend walking inside the restaurant, umbrella in hand.

“Hey,” Shane greeted him first, folding the umbrella and holding it in his hand. “It’s raining.”

“I see that,” Ryan nodded, pecking his lips and accepting a small kiss from Shane. Shane pulled away with a smile and looked briefly at Kelsey, trying to stow away the boxes to the storage room, he ducked down his ear anyway, whispering fondly in his ear.

“And it’s not me,” his breath tickled Ryan’s neck as he kissed his jaw, “how’s that for development?”

“Sweet,” Ryan chuckled, “we’re heading out now? Or—” Ryan picked up a set of leftover tinsel. “Wanna hang this up for Kelsey, big guy?”

Finally, Shane’s eyes looked around the restaurant, took in the sight of Christmas and he sighed. “You gotta be kidding me, _again_?”

“You have to give her credit, she’s staying in L.A this time,” Ryan took his jacket and his scarf, throwing both on as he yelled out his exit. Kelsey screamed from the storage room; a noisy  _bye!_ _See you tomorrow_ to remind him that she’s not his boss anymore but a friend who still needed help with customers.

“What’s tomorrow?” Shane asked, “also isn’t it cutting it too close to Christmas and she’s decorating now?” 

“Tomorrow is the last day before Christmas eve _eve,_  the eve before the eve... busy day, gotta help,” Ryan explained, he held Shane’s hand, fingers cold from the outside weather. “You can’t blame her, we didn’t even decorate the house until two days ago.”

Shane’s thumb rubbed against his, they stood facing each other by the door, the soft pitter patter of the rain pouring outside could be heard from the window. From the corner of his eye, Ryan could see the group of men that Steven introduced him to first day on the job—it was nearing three in the afternoon.

“The house is huge, Ryan,” Shane quipped, to brag about his mansion of a house, “I don’t want to go home, how often did you play at an arcade as a kid?”

“My cousins and I went when I was younger. We didn’t have a lot of money to work with so I would use the coins my aunt gave me to buy _pocky_ from the gas station next door.” 

“Oh lord, this arcade is better than pocky—” 

“Nothing is better than pocky.”

And Shane was shoved him through the front door of Tasty, his mind must have been filled of places to go because when Ryan opened his eyes again, he was seeing the other side of an arcade. He prepared himself for the leftover vertigo, it was faint in the back of his mind, if he didn’t move it wouldn’t hit him as much.

He was getting better at teleporting, the visions ceased from every time to every now and then. This time, nothing played in his head and he was staring at Shane from the dim light of the arcade he’d thrown him into.

Unlike the arcade Ryan went to as a child, he was staring at lifesize figures, video game machines disjointed around them with children playing wildly, their parents standing behind to watch. There were characters around the machines, cutouts of Disney characters and—ah, he knows exactly where he is. 

“You smuggled us inside Disneyland...” Ryan gawked, he watched if anybody would notice that they weren’t supposed to be there.

“It’s only the arcade,” Shane reassured, “we won’t step out of the arcade if you want.”

“Are you kidding?” 

They indeed stepped out of the arcade.

But not before Ryan ran around the arcade, playing every game that brought out his missed childhood. He wasn’t a big fan of Disney, not when he was forced to watch _Land Before Time_ or _Pokémon_ on cable everyday. He still knew about it, didn’t feel the same nostalgia others did. He wondered if he had grew up with it, he must have been the biggest fan there ever was. 

The rain hadn't slowed down in Disneyland, though it still worked in their favor. After playing every possible game (ignoring Shane when he bet that if Ryan won three pacman levels, he’ll buy him a ring to celebrate,) they took their time wandering around Disneyland, hiding from people that had their designated bracelets, consuming too much sugary drinks and snacks.

Walking home, Ryan munched on chocolate pocky, a gift that he bought for himself after winning those three pacman levels. Since it was Christmas time again, their park was filled with families and tourists, taking pictures of the lights on the trees and the elongated Christmas tree with ornaments. A gorgeous as it was, Ryan always found their park best when there was little interaction around.

“You’re only anti-social,” Shane laughed, the umbrella tucked under his arm and stole another pocky from him. Ryan let him, he was his boyfriend after all.

“I’m not, my mother brought me to parks and I was that kid that talked to every other kid.”

“Oh my god, Steven was identical,” Shane shook his head, “I had to pull him away from _every_ kid in a mile radius. I bet you shared your food too, you are a criminal, Ryan.” 

He did. Ryan smiled softly, he chewed on the pocky he was eating, his mother liked pocky too. That’s all that she would give him whenever he was good, she liked the strawberry ones. He wondered if she could find a way to see him, walking through a park illuminated by nothing but hundreds of light bulbs. From the way she was, she’d love the scenery.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” Ryan suddenly asked, he inched closer to Shane just in case he'll start bawling but he had to know. “What drove you to save my mother?” 

It had been talked about in Dodge Ridge months back, Shane confessed of resurrecting his mother, in term him. He told him that he had been upset at the time, except Ryan didn’t know what had hinted Shane to save his mother.

His morality? The fact that he could do it?

“The truth… I saw it happen with my own two eyes, she stopped breathing when I tried to help her,” Shane answered, “I don’t… know what happened but I didn’t want her to die.” Shane looked at him then, studied him before stopping them both, “you look like her. Her eyes brown like yours, young and bright.”

Tears filled Ryan’s eyes, of course they were. “I believe I've told you this, she found out that I was a boy an hour before.” 

“Did she?” Shane chuckled, “It makes sense, she whispered your name to me.”

“Did she?” Ryan echoed mirthlessly, he didn’t know that. She probably murmured incoherent words to Shane at the time, believing that he was an angel. One of the last words she’d say was _his_ name.

“She did. When I resurrected her, it seemed as if her soul told me to resurrect you first. Like the visions you have, I saw you and her, I saw her alone, I saw how happy she was finding out about you. I think that’s what drove me to do it. Even with the short span of time, I know that she loved you with all she had.” 

With the wound of his mother’s anniversary only a month prior, Ryan released the tears he had behind. He was still sensitive, more so during the holidays, he had no mother to celebrate with, no siblings or never knew of his father. The only thing he had was the memory of her.

Still, he was happy that Shane could give him things he didn’t know about her. Things that she kept to herself to save his nine year old mind, things that he wanted to know.

“She loved me as much as you do,” he admitted, smiling when Shane’s eyes softened, his arms twitched as if they wanted to reach for him and embrace him.

Ryan doesn’t know what stopped him from doing so, “I don’t blame you for letting her live, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m happy you let us have time together, like we’re doing right now. All we have to do is love each other.”

This time Shane resisted and did hug him, holding the back of his head with his hand. “We’ll love each other so much.”

Ryan hummed, absorbing as much warmth as he could from Shane’s body. He was a walking heater, even if his prickly stubble bothered Ryan’s skin, he still insisted of taking the part of a lumberjack in the winter. “Tell me what else you saw.” 

“She learned how to cook for you,” Shane told him when he pulled away, keeping him at arm's reach. His eyes were swollen, no sign of tear tracks on his cheeks however, “guess it runs in the family.”

Ryan snorted, and kept Shane's comment as a compliment. He didn't press further and instead crooked a finger at Shane, gesturing him to bend down to him. (He didn't really  _need_ too, but it was comforting to see him listen intently to everything Ryan said.)  
  
As Ryan predicted, his boyfriend smiled and bent his head to Ryan's, to which he spoke, "how about I cook for you tomorrow, big guy?"  
  
"Is that a threat?" Shane's laughter resonated in Ryan's ears, his warm breath tickled his cheeks. "How about we cook together? Only this time we won't try to fuck on—"

Ryan stuck a pocky in Shane's mouth to shut him up.

 

* * *

 

A vibrating sound echoed in the bedroom, the source sat on Shane’s bedside table. The alarm from his phone blasted in full volume, resonating an earsplitting shrill and stirred on the bedside table to the floor. Before it could fall, Shane caught it with his hand, grumpily groaning and pressed the snooze button.

He turned back around, his back facing his phone and inched closer to Ryan, winding his limbs around his boyfriend. But to no avail, Ryan was already awake, or seemed to try and wiggle from his embrace. 

“I will never let you convince me to put an alarm on my phone,” Shane asserted groggily, he heard the bed sheets shuffle under their weight and he hid his face in Ryan’s hair. “If you leave, I'll snap my fingers and every alarm will drop off the face of the Earth.”

“Shut up. If you didn’t have one, we’ll never wake up,” Ryan protested, equally tired. He tried to maneuver breathing room, and away from Shane’s arms but fell back into the fluffy, comfortable pillows. “Merry Christmas, Shane.” 

Shane hummed, eyes closed and eased his body to fall back to sleep. “Merry Christmas _eve_ , Ryan.”

“We have to get up,” Ryan urged, though he didn’t make any effort to move. “We have to set up for the party, Steven is coming at nine, Kelsey would be here around noon if we're unlucky—” Shane heard a short _bing_  after his lover, Ryan rolled over to pick up his phone.

The bright screen made him squint and he sighed, “Kelsey is asking what the address is—”

“Now?” Shane mumbled from the pillow, he dug himself deeper in the bed and if he had his beanie, he’ll cover his eyes. He felt Ryan fuss as he situated himself back in Shane’s awaiting arms.

“Do I have to teleport her? How funny would that be?” He joked lightheartedly, though Ryan didn’t laugh.

Shane opened his eyes and ducked his head down. Ryan’s face was one that a panicked man would get when he's asked to stay overnight at work. He slowly sat himself upright, the sheets revealing his naked upper chest, hinting at his bare lower body.

“It’s nine.” 

“What?” 

‘It’s nine in the morning, Shane!” Ryan tossed himself over Shane's unclothed self and over to his boyfriend’s phone. He turned it on, showing the screen counting down the minutes they had on snooze and the big bright numbers of 9:06. 

Oh fuck.

“It’s nine in the—” Ryan didn’t finish before he jumped out of bed, Shane following behind, sleep suddenly diminishing from him.

The next few minutes were frantic, absolute chaos is how Shane remembered. After a taut shower together, they changed in meticulous speed, climbed down the decorated stairs. Shane took himself to the kitchen, ordering around the snacks and finger food that he’d bought days before to arrange themselves on his counter.

Ryan was heard madly running around, wrapping presents at the last minute. Shane helped him, magically conjuring the wrapping paper to _wrap_ itself. They did what they were supposed to do in three hours in twenty minutes, heaving as they did not take a break.

When they heard car rolling in Shane's driveway—following the sound of Steven’s voice and Kelsey’s overjoyed self—they froze and Shane patted Ryan’s wrist with his hand. Pulling him close and fixing his hair and button down shirt.

Because he was a deity, he let everything around them work on their own; platters filled with food arranged on the counter, presents tucked under their tree, and the lights within the sound flickered on with the candles on the dining room.

Kissing Ryan for good luck, Shane opened the door before anybody could ring the doorbell.

He welcomed Kelsey, blocking his nephew with her chunky beige coat. She grinned sweetly at him and rose the neck of the wine bottle she held. Correction, of both wine bottles she held. “What’s up lovebirds! Merry Christmas! Show me around, Madej!” 

Ryan watched as Kelsey knocked the wine in Shane's arms, pushing him away from the entrance and to the living room, awestruck at the mansion Shane called his house.

“Hey Ryan,” Steven greeted, he stood at the entrance of his former home, suitcase in hand and the other around a pretty woman. She smiled at him and extended the plate she had in her hands. Aligned with plastic wrap, baked goods huddled around the plate in a cluttered fashion, Ryan would dig in that as quick as he can.

“Merry Christmas,” she greeted, honey-like voice, “I made these, Steven told me that you and Shane loved butterscotch cookies so I made extra.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ryan gave her a smile, taking the plate from her hands.

“She’ll fit in perfectly,” he then told Steven, “though, you have to excuse my boyfriend, Kelsey had him promise that she’ll get the first tour of the house.”

“House,” she muttered out, “it’s a mansion. You said your uncle traveled? What does he do to earn this kind of salary?”

Ryan caught Steven’s eye, flickered with friendly silliness, he explained: “legend has it, nobody knows what he works as. But he has  _lots_  gold to spare.” 

“No kidding.”

After introductions, helping Steven with his suitcase and the presents he brought from San Diego, and Kelsey finally fitting in her quota for house tours, Shane strut to his side. They watched their guests mingle, settled in the comfort of their living room and talking to each other over plates of snacks and glasses of wine. 

“Do you think they’d notice we’re gone for a few minutes?”

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan laughed, “don’t offer to have a quickie when we have Kelsey in the house.”

“Only you’d think of dirty things. I meant as in to talk to you?”

Befuddled, Ryan met Shane's eyes, he opened his mouth to reply when Kelsey’s voice interrupted him. “Hey! Come here and listen to this! Steven’s thinking about going to Singapore!”

Like a light switch turned on in Shane’s head, he smiled at his nephew, his girlfriend and Kelsey. Mentally noted Shane’s concerned behavior, Ryan pivoted to the table.

Their morning was spent well, consuming an unreasonable amount of carbs and drinking wine in favorable amounts. (With the promise that they’d save it for tomorrow’s dinner.) Apparently, their guests loved to talk a lot about their lives too. 

Steven’s boss loved him, adored him. Enough to promote him and send him to cities and out of the country. He’ll travel as their sponsor, advertising their short films and helping out charity with fundraisers involving food.

His girlfriend went with him, just as important, she was in charge of said organizations funding their company. Together, they’re traveling around around, taking pictures and having as much fun as Shane and Ryan would. (Maybe without the bickering.) 

Kelsey was the same, though, Ryan already had been covered of her life since he’d returned from Dodge Ridge. Since Shane’s 'influence' (and catering to being head honcho of advertising her business) had driven customers in Tasty, she’s doing better. Her business is blossoming and had been thinking of opening another restaurant in North L.A.

“Maybe move myself to Santa Monica,” she went on, hiccuping after a drink of her wine, “I’d love to follow Steven’s steps and expand on my business.”

Ryan liked that idea. She had loved Santa Monica since _forever_ , and now that her boyfriend was thinking of getting a second apartment there, she believed that it was a farcry to visit in the spring.

“What about you?” She lifted her chin over to Shane, “what have you been up to?”

“Advertising your business,” Shane jeered, “going on dates, paying bills. I don’t know, getting used to L.A again.” 

Kelsey nodded, gaped at him with understandable gratitude. Shane had mentioned that Kelsey was hostile towards him when Ryan left, before he had left for Dodge Ridge. He tied loose ends with her and had told Kelsey that he was with him after they a few months. 

Seeing both of them interact again filled Ryan’s heart with warmth, he was fond of both of them and knew them for a year. They were his family, and Steven, he had grown up into the man Ryan knew he’d be. Buying gifts for all of them had been difficult, he put lots of thought into each one.

(With Jen trying to convince him into visiting the art shop from last year in his ear.)

Suddenly, Steven’s girlfriend straightened in her seat, she had been resting on the ottoman next to the coffee table, “Shane’s been visiting Steven lots too, that’s where I met him,” she chimed in. 

“She’s right,” Shane grinned, “Steven organizes fundraisers frequently. I recall that one of his donations was under _your_ name.”

“ _My_ name?” Kelsey gestured at herself with her thumb, and because she’s a sap, she pouted at Steven and stood up to hug him.

With the attention away from Shane, he sat closer to Ryan and held his hand. There was no reason to ask why, Shane liked to hold hands often. Still, from in the pit of Ryan’s stomach, he felt off.

He didn’t know what it was, Shane looked fine. He was talking and smiling at his guest with ease, if he wanted to make a joke, he would. If he wanted to tease Ryan, he would. Then what was it?

A few hours passed by, their guests snug in their living room discussing where to go out for dinner later, Ryan pulled Shane into the kitchen to wash up. 

“Shane, I feel weird.”

Shane was gathering the smudgy dishes of snacks atop of silver platters, he looked up briefly before dumping them in the sink. “Weird? What kind of weird?”

“I think there’s a deity around.”

At that, Shane froze, his whole body tensed and he ran from the sink and to the kitchen window. He moved the curtain and looked outside, nothing but the sun in the sky, covered by a few clouds and his yard. While looking outside, he asked: “Fate?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel weird,” Ryan confessed sheepishly. “I don’t feel cold or anything, I assumed it wasn't a ghost.” 

“It could be me,” Shane mused, pushing himself from the window and glanced to the doorway into the living room. “I don’t feel anybody nearby, still, we’d better keep an eye out when we’re out. Here—” Shane took a cookie from the platter Steven’s girlfriend brought, “eat this, you’ll feel better.” 

Ryan hesitated. He trusted his boyfriend to cheer him up anyway and relaxed, taking a bite of the cookie and felt Shane kiss his temple before running back to the living room.

They were doing so well. Fate never appeared after she encountered Shane a month before. Why would she now? Was it symbolic because it was Christmas? No. That couldn’t be it.

In the back of Ryan’s mind, it didn’t feel like Fate was making him feel this way. His suspicions were lifted when they left for dinner that night, though both Shane and Ryan didn’t separate from each other when they were out, Fate was nowhere to be seen, Andrew less of. Jen was away with Maycie and Daysha, he saw no sign of ghostly figures around them, Shane confirmed this. 

What was going on?

Back at home, the feeling ceased. Only when Shane excused himself to the bathroom, Ryan felt like he could _breathe_.

Oh.

It _was_ him.

Shane’s aura had been unbearable to the point of suffocating Ryan. His energy heavy and apparent, nobody in the room could feel it but him, nobody suspected anything other than Shane was a happy, funny man.

It took another hour or two before their guests retired for the night. Because Shane has thousands of guest rooms, their guests (mostly Kelsey) choose their own to stay in. With all of them in their respected room, Ryan caught Shane’s wrist and asked if he could talk to him.

Shane turned to the bedroom after he nodded but Ryan pulled him back, “outside,” he gasped.

Outside where he could _breathe_ the fresh air instead of being in a bedroom with his boyfriend unknowingly spreading his distress.

Once outside, Ryan dropped himself on the steps of the porch, giving himself a few seconds to recover. Being with Shane, it was exhilarating. It had pumped his blood pressure to the point of passing out before, he loved the sensation of it. He loved how nervous he got with him, how he longed for him, but when his depression took over, it was a bit too much to handle.

“Are you okay?”

“I am,” Ryan answered, Shane walked over to him, sitting down on the steps too. “It isn’t Fate or any ghosts making me feel this way.”

Shane grew quiet, his mouth in a hard line, “I knew it was me, I told you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan asked desperately, rubbing his palms on his eyes. He felt exhausted, his arms and legs like jelly, numb as if they were asleep. “Does this have to do anything with trying to talk to me earlier?”

“Yes.”

“We’re talking now, tell me.”

Except, Shane shook his head, “look at yourself, Ryan, you’re about to fall over. I don’t want you in a foul mood. Maybe we should rest.”

Usually, Ryan would tell him he was fine but he really felt himself inclined, his body leaned on the rail of the porch stairs. “Will you tell me later?”

“I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Does it have to do with the sword?”

“Ryan—”

“I know that you’re overthinking about it. I can’t stop you from thinking about it,” Ryan stood up, using the rail as leverage.

He looked down at Shane and put his hand on his sagged shoulder. “I’m sorry you feel that way Shane, know that I’m here for you always. This behavior you’ve shown the past few weeks is because of Fate. Don’t let her do this, you’re stronger.” 

Ryan massaged Shane’s shoulder, moving his fingers in a rhythmic motion and pressed where he felt he was the most tense. “Merry Christmas, Shane,” he said, “come to bed and we can forget about it tonight.”

Though Shane continued to sit, he nodded his head and rubbed his chin with his hand. “Merry Christmas, Ryan. I’ll be right up.” 

Ryan let him be, pulling himself away and walked through the front door.

 

* * *

 

Ryan jiggled his foot on the stool he sat on. He downed another mug of coffee, and he was currently working on caffeine in his system alone. He had to finish what he was currently working on, laptop on the kitchen counter, opened on the website of the company who called him. A checklist by his side of things he needed for his interview, from his résumé to other documents, he over-prepared himself.

It was the first of a variety of companies that called him back. Though they offered him _benefits_ , a comfortable nine-to-five, not as far as he thought it would be.

He’ll have to take the bus again, or if he wanted to, rent a car for the beginning of the year. Shane and himself spoke about it already, when they were talking, of course.

Ryan didn’t have a driver’s license but he planned to get one this January. In other words, tomorrow.

Tonight would mark 2018, a new year with lots of things that Ryan could do. New cities to see, new foods to taste, new projects, perhaps. A new _job_.

As for tonight, he doesn't have any plans. Shane had to work today, as he had last year. Kelsey busied herself with her family, and Steven was in San Diego. He was alone for the morning, until Shane returned from work.

Except, Shane returned from work two hours ago. Ryan watched him try an sneak his way in his house, tip-toeing to his office. If anything, it left Ryan hurt that he didn’t greet him or anything, he had been wandering the house for those two hours waiting for him. 

The past week had been… something. After Christmas, Shane and Ryan took a break from work or job searches; they stayed at home and tried to teach other how to cook or speak Italian.

(Ryan wasn’t very good at it, he learned.) 

Two days into their break, Shane woke up in the middle of the night screaming, trembling alarmingly and taken over by the pain in his chest.

It ended last night, and this morning Shane took himself out to go to work. Ryan guessed that his chest ached, frustrated him and left work to lock himself in his office to catch up on his work. That upset Ryan even more. It was his fault that Shane was feeling this way, he had no control over the curse and Ryan was the key to stopping the pain. 

Killing Shane wasn’t an option in his book. It never is. No matter how much pain Shane endured, he never asked Ryan to kill him. There was nothing of the sort, he told Ryan that he’s fine. He was always fine. But when he’s suffering?

Shutting his laptop, Ryan jumped from his seat. His bare feet inaudible as he pivoted to his denim jacket hung on the coat stand. He dug out the zippo lighter from the pocket, without question, he flicked his thumb on the side and a flame appeared before his eyes. He blew it out, a second later he was facing Shane, who had changed from his uniform to a sweater, his hair more of a mess than before.

He blinked twice before his head went to Ryan. “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Thank god, he’s not angry. “You wouldn’t talk to me unless I called you this way. We have to talk.”

“There’s—” Shane rolled his eyes and he lolled his head backwards, _now_ looking a bit annoyed, “I told you to summon me when you’re in trouble. You scared me, Ryan.”

“You’re ignoring me, _again_ ,” Ryan protested, though Shane was already turning around to leave. “That’s why I left in the first place, you have to stop doing this!”

“I don’t want to talk Ryan,” Shane hissed, “don’t manipulate me into talking to you.”

“I’m not—” Ryan let out a unamused chuckle, “Shane, you’re not okay. You have to tell me what’s going on. Is it Fate? Did you see her?”

“No, I didn’t fucking see her and you know what Ryan? I’m getting tired of expecting to,” Shane's stomping ceased and he met Ryan's eyes halfway from the staircase, “I know you’re tired too, _exhausted_ and irritated that I can’t—I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not tired, Shane,” physically, Ryan was tired. He was tired over many, many other things. After his workout or after going through pages and pages of job offerings. But not with Shane, he would never feel tired of waiting for him to open up.

“You don’t have to hide it from me, Ryan. _I know you_.”

“As much as you think you know me,” Ryan began, “I only want to help you, you’re in pain Shane!”

“I’m _fine_!” Shane yelled, an octave higher than Ryan. “I’m fine!”

“Waking up in the middle of the night screaming isn’t _fine_ Shane! Don’t keep it all to yourself, please let me help you.” 

Shane gulped, he nibbled on his bottom lip and his eyes—the saddest eyes that Ryan has ever seen—blinked away the tears threatened to fall. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me. I’m doing this to protect you.”

“We both know that nothing will protect us now. We formed a pact between us, it will be hard, _it will be stressful_ ,” Ryan insisted, “but you promised I’d be able to help you. If you don’t tell—” 

“We have to break up, Ryan,” Shane cut him off curtly, and the moment Shane's words escaped his mouth, he returned to Ryan's side and threaded a hand through his hair. Ryan couldn't get a word in, what Shane had told him engraved into his soul and stuck themselves to him; they were unexpected.

“We have to break up because I love you too much. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ryan tried to listen to him, though, his head refused to loop  _we have to break up_.

“Is that what you want?” Ryan murmured. 

"It’s not what about what I want,” Shane shook his head, “it’s what we have to do. I love you Ryan, I do—”

“Shane, what did Fate say to you?” 

“Does it matter now?”

“Yes, it _does_ ,” Ryan’s expression hardened, Fate told him something.

He wouldn’t say that to Ryan unless she told him something. Whether it had been a threat to kill Ryan off—was that it? Did her words finally defeat him? Break Ryan’s boyfriend to the point of insanity and worry that she’s stalking them both?

“Shane, you can’t chose that for the both of us.”

“We have no choice.”

“We do, we always have a choice,” Ryan told him. “If it’s what you want, I’ll respect your decision. But I don’t want to break up with you or leave you.” Ryan saw the clock above Shane’s head, 3:46. “I’m going to let you think about it. I’m going out.” 

When Ryan whirled around, Shane took hold of his forearm.

His face said it all, the fear crossing his mind of Ryan running away again. But he wasn’t, he wasn’t going to leave him. Just to prove his point, Ryan cradled Shane’s face in his cool hands, “it’s okay,” he whispered, “I’m not going to leave, I’ll be at Cupid’s Cake for a few hours. You know where it is if you need me. I’ll be back before it gets dark. I’ll be back.” 

“Be safe,” Shane drawled, “don’t come home too late. Take the lighter with you.” 

Ryan nodded, “I love you.”

Shane’s eyes flickered to his, in surprise he let out a shaky breath. “Me too,” he closed his eyes, “I—I mean—me too as in—I love you, too.”

Laughter escaped Ryan before he could help himself, he kissed Shane’s jaw since he couldn't reach further on his tippy toes. Shane leaned down for him, far down enough to let Ryan kiss his forehead too.

Shane let him go, his fingers yearned the heated touch and he turned around to leave Shane to think for himself.

Going to a public café after having an argument with Shane was the worst idea he’s had. Closing off the year in the middle of couples and families, customers coming in to order last minute goods—meaning Ryan had a limited menu to work with. After his second bagel, he thought that he had to think of something else other than Shane.

He kept himself busy by lurking through Brent’s _Instagram_ when he looked up for a brief moment, his eyes averted from the customers walking inside to behind them. He caught a glimpse of scarlet. A woman stood outside, turned away from him, she stood tall and jammed her hands in her red pants.

Ryan stared at her. He knew that face, he’d seen it before. It was hidden in his memory as a child, when his mother died—”Ryan, what are you doing here?” 

He shook himself out of thinking and turned to the voice, rattled. Jen stood in front of him, carrying a backpack on her shoulder. She wore brand clothing, a set of jackets which she gracefully bundled herself with. She must have seen him staring and wondered _why_ a ghost needed jackets. 

“Oh, I’m starting to feel the cold,” she laughed nervously, “I know I told Shane I won’t steal, so I asked him to give me money to buy a jacket. He did, it’s nice and comfortable,” she moved an inch to the right, blocking his view of the woman, “Speaking of, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home? With Shane? Or is he at work?” 

She’s stalling. She knows something. Whether or not it had been intentional to block the view of the woman, Ryan didn't ask because she disappeared when Ryan tried to look. He swore that he knew her.

“No, he’s at home,” he answered with a sigh, “I can’t come to eat by myself?” 

“On New Years Eve?” She raised her eyebrow, dumped her backpack on the table and sitting across from him. “Speak to me, the humans can see me.” Funny, she must be hanging out with Shane a little too much;  _the_ humans wasn’t a term of endearment, Jen.

Ryan squinted, “Yeah. I’ve been alone before? Why is this any different?”

“You don’t mind I join you then? I was about to order a shit ton of cookies,” she suggested happily.

“Sugar isn’t good for you,” Ryan pondered, “order two chocolate chip for me.”

She jumped from her seat, smiled and yelled over her shoulder, “I don’t have a liver, all that sugar would only float inside me.”

Because she was manefisting herself, a couple of people turned their heads to her in shock. Realizing that humans _did_ need a liver to function, Ryan hid his laughter with his hand.

Three large cookies later, Ryan excused himself from Jen and left to walk back home. Once he had been out of the door however, Jen followed behind.

“I thought you were going to stay—”

“Decided not to,” she shrugged, the bag of cookies in her arms, nearly falling off the floral bag with the way she held them. She bounced on her feet, exceptionally jumpy from the relaxed Jen he’s talked to. Could it have been to distract him?

No, that couldn’t be it, Jen is always like this. The sugar in her must have kicked in, working as it would in a child all the while doing the complete opposite to Ryan. Fatigued, he arrived to Shane’s house, the windows downstairs were on, but he allowed himself inside without announcing his entrance.

“You’re back,” Shane’s voice rang from the living room, he freshened himself up. Now wearing a red plaid button down, shaved and missing his glasses from before. “You smell like cookies.”

“I’m surprised you caught that,” Ryan smiled softly, he grew silent and pursued his lips. What could he say? 

“Listen—” they both started. Ryan snorted, a laugh threatened to escape him at their ability to talk at the same time. Maybe _he_ was the one spending too much time with Shane. “I had lots to think about.”

“So did I,” Shane claimed, he spread out his arms wide, inviting in an icy Ryan into his embrace. He let himself fall into him, Shane released the breath he had been holding and tightened his long arms around him. “I’m sorry that I said those things to you.”

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not, you’re allowed to be angry at me,” Shane pulled him away, “what I say to you should make you mad.”

Ryan bit down the _it does,_  and nodded his head. Though, it was hard for him to feel resentment towards Shane when he couldn’t trust people.

While he was dating Ryan, he known him for a year. Shane knew everything about him and in turn let him love Shane in the way he knew how. They were growing together, Shane’s trust issues wouldn’t disappear just because Ryan loved him.

“I don’t want to break up with you,” Shane reassured, his hands on Ryan’s neck, under the red scarf hanging by his shoulders. “I want to start the year with you, spend the months with you by my side. With—”

Shane paused, his eyes narrowed and he ducked his head to press a kiss on Ryan’s temple. “I want to give you the best life that everyone has  _thought_ of having—"

"I don't want the best life," Ryan cut him off, smiling, "I just want to be with you."

Shane's lips pursed, then he bit his bottom lip to hide the smug grin, "I get it. I want to give you the best life with me by your side. I'll love you until the sun explodes a million of years from now."  
  
For a moment, Ryan wondered if Shane would get to see that. He made sure to think about it hard enough for Shane to see. 

Ryan snorted, though he was smiling. “Me too,” he repeated, then let Shane glare at him for a few seconds, “there’s lots to do between you and me, we can’t break up after all we've been through.”

“You’re right. I have to give you a good impression of me,” Shane smiled back, “let this year the our best. Happy new year, Ryan. I love you.”

“Kiss me when it’s midnight,” Ryan dismissed his lips, “but happy new year, Shane. I love you, too. I have a feeling it’d be the best year if I’m by your side.”

Shane couldn’t help to hug Ryan, wrapped his limbs around him. Ryan felt better after arguing, for once, Shane thought about what _he_ wanted. In the new year, Shane would think about himself, he’ll be selfish, he’ll love, he’ll laugh and he’ll be human.

He was robbed of a life full of happiness and Ryan was committed to give it to him. That was all Ryan could ask for this year.

 

* * *

 

Ryan opened the glass double doors, with a nod to the employee standing by and walked towards the reception desk. A man sat there, behind the beige mahogany desk, long and elongated with trinkets from cacti to pens and brochuches aligned.

He was gorgeous, and Ryan meant it. Apologizing to his boyfriend, (though Shane would agree with him in a heartbeat) the man had jet black hair like his and had a stern stare, worked with such elegance that Ryan was almost imitated to _not_ speak to him.

“Hi, I’m Ryan Bergara, Mr. Marchbank is expecting me?” Right on the dot, Ryan didn’t waste anytime introducing himself. Not because he was rude, but because he was a few minutes late. Damn it, damn Shane for pressing snooze on his alarm. 

"Right,” he didn’t look up from the papers he arranged on the desk, phone stuck in his shoulder and cheek. For a moment, Ryan believed he was speaking on the phone when the receptionist looked up.

“Bergara, yes. This is your first day?” Ryan nodded his head, “Mr. Marchbank is currently unavailable, though I had been told you to escort you—”

Suddenly, Ryan found himself blinking dazedly, his body shook with the presence of somebody new. Tingled all the way from his head to his toes and he was left wondering what made him feel this way. Afraid that a ghost had approached him at _work_ , he stood still and blinked away the vertigo to see the receptionist sneer to his side.

Averting his eyes from the man, Ryan looked towards his direction and saw another man, tall and handsome, adorned with a beard that rivaled Shane’s. He wore casual clothing, a button down with blue jeans, all topped with a red tie. “I’m not unavailable, Eugene. I’m _here_. I’ll be escorting Ryan Bergara to my floor.”

“You’re late,” Eugene told his boss, glared at him, “you’re behind by two assignments. Be nice to Bergara.”

In a blink of an eye, Mr. Marchbank greeted Eugene with a sly joke, then clasped Ryan’s shoulders and pushed him over to the elevator. Nothing like Kelsey’s interrogation, his new boss didn’t speak to him during the elevator ride.

He kept to himself, humming or drumming his fingers on his hips. Was there any professionalism in the workplace? Kelsey asked if he'll have sex with a ghost and this man didn’t ask him _anything_.

The interview he had to endure was tough, it wasn’t by Mr. Marchbank himself, it was _his_ bosses. They sat him for hours before they told him to start in January. Weeks of readying himself didn’t prepare him for the next couple of seconds. When the elevator door opened, Ryan was caught by the sight of everything on fire. 

Or that was what it looked like to him. Knowing that he was officially in Hell, he observed employees run around, books or folders in hand, phones rang every second and echoed in Ryan’s ear. Mr. Marchbank stepped out first, signaling him to follow. He tried, maneuvering around screaming employees, rosy-cheeked and drastically trying to get things done.

It was 9:18 AM.

During their walk to wherever he was heading to, Mr. Marchbank greeted employees, and one told him to fuck himself before setting down a stack of papers in his arms.

“Here,” his boss announced and tossed the documents in Ryan's arms. Ryan continued walking and kept quiet. He knew when to listen and watch, Kelsey and Shane once nearly tore down Tasty by arguing about beers in Texas, this was _nothing_.

“Sorry for the commotion,” his boss shouted over the mayhem and turned around with hands around his mouth. There was no need, Ryan could hear him. “It’s publishing day! Horrible day to start your first day, it’d all be over around ten. We’ll talk in my office,” Mr. Marchbank led him inside an office room, tidy and stacked with columns of files.

His boss closed the door behind him and the outward disaster from the other side subsided only to a minimum. With a groan, Mr. Marchbank sat himself on his chair, twirled around before he took a sip of the coffee on his desk, taking note that Ryan might have to _get_ himself coffee later.

“Bergara,” Mr. Marchbank started, clicked his tongue repeatedly and flipped over a wideward amount of papers in a binder. “Sit, you can leave those anywhere.” 

Ryan did what he was asked, setting down the stacks of papers next to the chair beside him (since it was the only free space available) and he sat down in front of his boss.

“You can call me TJ,” TJ spoke, an _a-ha_ followed and he drew a piece of paper from his desk, “Ryan Bergara. Graduated from the University of California, majored in Journalism, no prior experience. This is interesting, you don’t need experience for a publishing company.”

“Yes,” Ryan confirmed, “wait, I mean. _Yes_ to the school part not about—”

“It’s fine, you need to start somewhere,” TJ laughed it off, “this department is less packed, you’ll be working with me in section B. Only because it’s publishing hour,” he stopped speaking and rose a finger to point at the door. They both looked at the door, the commotion was still at its peak.

“Monday’s are publishing days, twice in a month. Afterwards, we settle down and work with the authors, writing articles in a website or publish them on magazines, get it?” 

Ryan nodded, his palms sweaty from the series of events that he'd gone through in five minutes. "You’ll be in charge of the research team. Sources are important, Bergara, citing is too. You have any trouble, I am by your side.”

“Really?” Ryan asked, eyes gleamed at the position given to him, he heard a thump on the other side of the door but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Didn’t even flinch,” TJ muttered, “you’ll fit in well. I’ll show you to your desk after this chaos ends.”

TJ looked around his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a candy bar, “eat this as you wait, I suggest you chew slowly.”

TJ stood by his word and let Ryan out of his office a few minutes after ten in the morning. The tornado of cries and hollers stopped, people a lot chillier, either sitting in their desks clicking away on their computers or resting by the kitchen. Almost as if the disaster didn’t roll in an hour earlier, Ryan walked through the floor with TJ behind.

He was greeted by his co-workers, all of them smiling at him and telling him that if he needed anything, they’d be happy to help. His desk was nothing but a computer, a mug filled with pens and pencils and his name on a sticky post-it note on said computer screen. 

“It’s the way we remember your name,” TJ explained when Ryan asked him _why_ his name was the only one on a computer screen. “If we need you we can scream for you, etcetera. I’m sitting across from you, but right now I’m going out to a meeting. Refrain from asking for me for another hour.” 

After settling himself in, Ryan was given the task to call a set of authors and ask what their current project was. Afterwards, he’ll start researching sources credible enough for their articles. It was okay, he didn’t bore himself or didn’t grow anxious at each phone call. At around eleven, TJ came back to check on him before leaving him on his own.

At the last call, Ryan shivered, shoulders sagged and he unclenched his fingers. Cold spread through his fingers and draped over him like a blanket. He didn’t jump when Jen hopped on his desk, resting her transparent hands on the table.

“Came to check on you man,” she disclosed in the quiet department, “write to me on a post-it note. How’s it going?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answered the author on the phone, he took a pen and a yellow post-it note. “I understand, that would be around noon tomorrow?” He wrote _I’m good_ , _calling my last author, will research Antarctica's ice melting later_ before he wrote down the information given to him.

“That’s interesting, a _researcher_ you are,” Ryan continued his phone call, “It’s been around two hours and Shane’s driving me insane, he's spending his day off winter cleaning. He has a bandana on his head.”

Ryan smiled, “thank you for your time,” hanging up the call, he lowered to write on the same post-it note, _is he listening to my mexican songs playlist again?_

“Call them what they are. Norte...nas?”

_I think so,_ Ryan shrugged.

“Then yes,” Jen hopped off his desk, “It’s almost lunchtime, Bergara, what do you want to eat? I’ll bring you something.”

Shame on him for thinking about it, he didn’t want Jen as _his_ assistant. Before he could answer however, Jen’s faced blanched and she slowly jumped on his desk again, crossed her ankles in front of her. “Huh,” she laughed, “that’s a familiar face. Who’s he?”

Ryan forced himself not to smile and faked a yawn, raising his arms to the air and stretching himself, arching his back off the chair. He glanced behind his shoulder, TJ was speaking to three people, smiling and laughing with them before patting their shoulders and excused himself.

Before Ryan could react, TJ was by his side, “hey man, you doing good? Fuck, it’s freezing back here,” TJ looked to the ceiling.

“My boss, TJ,” Ryan awkwardly proclaimed, not only for Jen’s benefit but because he had to answer her question or she’ll pester him to the end of the Earth. “I’ve finished with calling the authors for the next two weeks.” 

“That’s… better than I expected,” TJ leaned over to him, reading the post-it notes he had on his desk. Thankfully he didn’t ask about the one with obvious replies, or he must have ignored it completely. “Listen, you have a lunch break at noon for thirty or forty minutes if I’m feeling nice. I’m inviting you to eat lunch with me.”

“Scandal! Tell him you have a boyfriend.”

Ryan mentally rolled his eyes, Shane couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Sure, actually,” Shane would love to meet this man, “my boyfriend is free, could he meet us for lunch?”

“That’d be awesome,” TJ replied, he tapped his knuckles on the desk, “I’ll text you the details, don’t take too long.” 

There was no rush, Ryan can _teleport_. Leaving Ryan alone, Jen turned her head and jumped from his desk. “I know that man! I must have known him from long ago, he looked familiar.”

“A friend?” Ryan whispered and coughed soon after, he busied himself with texting Shane. His boyfriend was currently sending him a shit ton of emojis at him after the invite to eat lunch with him. Followed along with _I miss you how is it going at your job baby!! I love you my hardworking man._

“Maybe,” Jen wrinkled her nose, “he must have annoyed me for me to remember his face. That’s probably it.”

“Shane said to stop stalking him,” Ryan ignored her, told her what was sent to him instead, he stood from his seat and took his jacket and hat, “he also said to come join us, the restaurant we’re going to has your favorite _novela_ on.” 

“The one with the pregnant lady?” Jen punched the air, “hell _yeah_.”

Because Ryan and his boyfriend could teleport, TJ got to their table last, confused as to _how._  He didn’t ask but assumed that they must have illegally pulled a stunt on the highway. Jen concentrated on the television above her, and ate her portion of Ryan’s enormous lunch.

“You must be TJ,” Shane rose from his seat—smelling of bleach and air fresheners—and stretched his hand out for TJ. “I’m Shane Madej, I’d offer you a business card or something, but that’d seem like we’re doing business.”

TJ laughed, “no worries, I don’t have any on hand either.” 

Lunch went better off than Ryan expected. TJ and Shane hit it off well, considering that they were abnormally tall as towers and shared the interest of skepticism. Ryan had a thrill listening to the both of them tearing him down about the paranormal, with a ghost munching on his chips beside him and a _deity_ repeating TJ’s words to him.

He smiled, holding his head on his hands, “there might be a ghost in this room right now,” he teased, “we just don’t know it. They have to feed off energy to show themselves.”

Jen snorted, then gasped when the novela she watched took a dramatic turn. “Maybe they’d be watching that show right now.”

“Don’t expose them, Ryan,” Shane scolded as a joke, he tilted his head at him and looked at him with the worst stern Ryan’s seen all day. “Ghosts, if they were real, can enjoy soap operas, too.”

“He’s right,” Jen spoke over TJ, chewing on the mouthful of chips in her mouth. “I love my soap operas.”

 

* * *

 

Shane smirked to himself, the guitar pick twirled around his fingers. He felt giddy upon discovering this masterpiece, it wasn’t his, and he knows for a _fact_ that Steven never took up on guitar lessons. This guitar pick belonged to his boyfriend. 

Said boyfriend sat on the living room couch, wearing a black t-shirt that perfectly fit him, his muscles lined with the fabric. His hair was slicked back, a quiff done and strands fell onto his forehead. Ryan looked up when Shane let out a victorious laugh.

“Little guy, I didn’t know you played guitar.”

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows, he scratched his temple, “I don’t?”

Shane showed him the guitar pick, red in color and simplistic by nature, Ryan’s eyes rounded at the sight of it. “I found this on the carpet, Bergara, where’s the pretty lady, I want to see that guitar.”

“I can explain,” Ryan stood up, he reached for the guitar pick but Shane was an asshole and he lifted his arm to the ceiling, pick in hand. Ryan sighed, “long legs, _please_. Don’t do this.”

“You won’t get anything back if you call me long legs,” Shane declared, “where is it, Ryan?”

“I took many hobbies at Dodge Ridge, you _know_ this.”

“I didn’t know playing guitar was one of them,” Shane smiled, “is it acoustic, we’re falling into the _bro_ stereotype, are we?”

“Soon I’ll be saying no homo to everything we do,” Ryan tried to reach for the guitar pick, jumped on his feet but only caught Shane’s wrist in hand. He sighed again, “why are you fucking insanely tall? Give it back and I’ll tell you.”

Content, Shane set the guitar pick in Ryan’s hair and sat on the couch. He was accepted to be serenaded soon, with lamentable notes and just as failed pronunciation of Spanish words. Shane’ll teach him, he never played a guitar but he loved other instruments.

The thought of his boyfriend _playing_ the guitar amazed him, though he had told him that he wasn’t good at it, Shane still wanted to hear every second of it. To see the look on Ryan’s face when he played, to see what he had learned on his own. It wouldn’t top his Italian, but it’d be up there.

It _was_ an acoustic guitar, bought off a man at an old pawn shop. A bargain Ryan said, though he looked convinced that the shopkeeper must have been a ghost himself. 

“I’m not playing it.”

“What’s the point of having it!” Shane wailed, “I deserve to listen, no matter how bad it is!” He fretted and pointing at Ryan when he stood with the guitar case in hand, he leaned it on the rail of the stairs.

“It’s not happening _now_ ,” Ryan then raised his fingers to his face, “I already have blisters and they hurt. Besides, I was about to find you myself.”

Shane scooted over reluctantly, he’ll convince Ryan for _life_ over that guitar. Goes to show that his soulmate would take interest in loads of hobbies.

Hopefully Ryan would take up on any sport next, he was leaning to soccer after all. From his head, he counted over one hundred and sixty three hobbies he’d taken up in the last three centuries. Most of them had been a success, others had been failures. 

His house, alongside with Ryan’s own hobbies, was a trip and a half. All of his art work, blank canvases and old paintbrushes were discarded in one of the guest rooms, Ryan gave up after one stroke of red, deeming it too dark for what he wanted. If that didn’t interest him, then he'll have another closet to look over, books of literature to learn a different language, ancient cookbooks, wooden instruments made by hand, you name it.

It’s what made Shane’s house, Shane’s—

“I’ve been slacking and overstayed my welcome here,” Ryan suddenly broke his train of thought, “do you have any references to apartments nearby?”

—and Shane was willing to share his home with Ryan. Wait. What?

“Apartments?” Shane repeated.

“Yeah,” Ryan sighed, “here,” he flipped his laptop over to him.

Shane saw a website of apartment complexes, with prices above the ideal minimum wage. All picturesque buildings with a pool or a street, some of them looked worn down but were cheaper, Ryan had those hearted. Why did he have them hearted?

“I’ve looked through it already, I called one of them and they have three apartments opened until the 31st.”

Wait. Wait, this was going too fast for him. Shane’s eyebrows rose and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he asked: “you already looked?”

“Yeah,” Ryan looked crestfallen, “they’re all far away from your house but closer to my job, though. I don’t want to live close to downtown, less if I have to _drive_ on the highway everyday.”

That was a problem, Ryan’s job was closer to downtown than his. He took the bus on his first day to adapt himself with his new surroundings, though he teleported through the front door this morning. A car wasn’t needed for either of them, still, Ryan showed interest that he wanted to learn to drive and _get_ one anyway. Sounds fair.

“You want an apartment, and a car too?”

Shane didn’t realize that he had said that out loud before Ryan looked at him tersely, “yeah? It’s expensive, isn’t it?”

Afraid to hurt Ryan’s feelings, he lied, “no, no, it’s fine. I had scavenged through worse before. You can have both a car and an apartment at once.”

He took the laptop from Ryan’s hands and scrolled through, from the corner of Shane’s eye he saw Ryan’s mouth set in a hard line but said nothing.

Shane helped Ryan go through the list of apartments, even if his mind fought against it. Ryan wasn’t in any state to get an apartment that would charge him over a thousand a month, on top of a car that would double that in a heartbeat. He had started his first job, even if he had more money in his savings than what to do with, Ryan had trouble paying off Kelsey’s apartment last year. 

That was part of the reason Shane was reluctant. The other side of him didn’t want Ryan to leave.

He lived alone in this mansion for weeks without Steven and it almost drove him to the gutter. Ryan brought life to the house, his cooking filled the house when it was his turn, he lit up the candles he had to mess with him, Ryan would fall asleep to the television blasted on full volume in the living room. 

Shane would come home to him. If he moved out, he wouldn’t have a sleeping Ryan on his couch or a happy Ryan coming over with calloused fingers to kiss him hello. Was that selfish? It might be. Ryan could also have his doubts about officially moving in together, he understood that.

That’s why he hearted apartments he found beneficial for him. They’ll deal with the car later.

A week later, on Shane’s day off, Steven showed up on his door. He had been working in his office all morning, upon hearing the news that he’s been offered for _another_ promotion over a client he snatched, he dedicated himself to them. The doorbell rang a quarter after twelve, he looked from his paperwork and wondered if Ryan forgot his keys. 

“Surprise,” it wasn’t Ryan as he guessed, Ryan never forgot his keys. Steven gave him a toothy smile, “I’m here for a visit! I see that you mowed the lawn.”

Shane blinked, saying nothing but let Steven walk in. He carried a backpack, filled with clothes and anything he needed for his… upright visit. “Please don’t tell me you’re heartbroken.” 

“What? No!” Steven held up his palms, “I’m not! We’re fine, you texted me that I’d visit you for the weekend, Shane.”

Did he? Oh my, god, he did. Kudos for his nephew to take him seriously. Well, Shane could use the company of his nephew. The last few days, Ryan and Shane spent their time looking at apartments, sometimes Ryan would go on his own and it’ll take him all afternoon.

“Great,” Shane followed behind Steven, patted his nephew’s shoulders and pushed him slightly. “You’ll make us lunch right?”

“Uh-huh,” Steven jokingly agreed, tossed his backpack on the kitchen stool and folded the sleeves on his collared shirt. He was being sarcastic sure, but he was already on his way to cooking for him. “I’m hungry myself, I’m not about to refuse free food. Where’s Ryan?” 

“He’s working,” Shane answered, “he’s in charge of a research team at a publishing company. Isn’t that neat. He’s doing so well, though his boss is just like me _—_ ” 

“It must be stressful to work with a Shane and then come home to one,” Steven joked, he laughed when Shane said his name sternly.

Because Shane’s memory is shitty, he invited Steven over as compensation for not spending new years together. Steven’s work had him on lockdown, keeping him busy since September with little or no vacation in between ( _not_ counting his travels.) However, he had thrown that invite out the window for a month like March or April, maybe somewhere along the line of summer, Steven thought differently.

San Diego wasn’t that far away, Shane wanted to argue, he had been visiting all—oh, he understood. Steven _missed_ him. That was a first, all those years living in this house with complaints about the freezing water, the heated water, or _no_ water said otherwise. Leaving Los Angeles has done Steven well, obviously showing that the young boy he took in had grown into his own. 

Seconds away from pulling out the photo albums, Shane heard the front door open, closing and—

" _I’m home!_  Check this out, I found this—Steven!” Ryan walked through the kitchen, still in his jacket and scarf, he placed whatever he was holding on the table and went over to hug Steven, “what are you doing here?” 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Steven echoed, his eyebrows rose, “aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“It’s my lunch break,” Ryan told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“How did you get here _that_ quick?”

Ryan smiled, “I teleported,” and crossed over to the fridge. 

Realization dawned on Steven’s face, his jaw slack before hollered, “you can teleport too? Holy fuck, it’s a match made in heaven,” then he wrinkled his nose, “unless you transferred that to him somehow.” 

“This isn’t a sci-fi show, Steven, I’m not an alien,” Shane slid off his stool and walked over to Ryan, kissing him in the cheek, “how’s work? TJ isn’t losing it on you, is he?” 

“It’s a Saturday,” Ryan shrugged, he was preparing himself a scrumptious bowl of salad, “he’s tired working overtime. He mentioned that he was up for bowling with you.”

“I was joking, I can’t bowl unless I want to embarrass myself,” then Shane thought about it, “glad he accepted my invitation anyway.”

Smiling over to Steven, who had begun to unnecessarily toss his food with his frying pan like he was at a five-star restaurant, he whispered in Ryan’s direction, “I gotta tell you something.” 

Licking his thumb, Ryan turned his head, “is it severe? Mild?”

“We’re not discussing hot wings here, Ryan,” Shane tilted his head, though it seemed like they were. If one of them was going to pull that _we need to talk_ speech, they had to give the other a warning of how important it was. It backfired a few time, since everything was important. “It’s fine, not as important.”

“That’s a first,” Ryan pointed at the bag of croutons, “can you pass me that?” 

Shane did so automatically, “do you want some dressing?” He tiptoed himself to the fridge, passed both Ryan and Steven and opened the fridge, “I think I bought some for you.”

“I finished it,” Ryan confessed, “it’s on the grocery list now.” 

“Huh,” Shane closed the fridge, Steven was looking at him when he turned away but he watched Ryan, he had a few minutes with him until he had to return back to work with his lunch. “I got offered another promotion.”

Ryan’s eyes rounded, he stopped chewing on his lettuce then bounced joyfully, “what the fuck! That’s _so_ important! That’s amazing, Shane!” 

Shane’s smile widened, maybe he felt his cheeks turn pink. “I got their priority client as an affiliate; called me this morning to tell me that they had been looking over my file. The chances of taking my former boss’s job is high.”

“That’s—” Ryan laughed, he reached for Shane’s shoulder, or tried to, because he failed and he ended up clinging to his side. Shane stilled him and bent his knees to hug him instead, “that’s amazing! You worked hard for _days_ to get that client. I’m so proud of you!”

“Eh, it’s not a big deal—” 

“Yes it is, you big oaf!” Ryan pulled away hurriedly, “Steven, tell him that’s a big deal, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

For a split second, Shane forgot that his nephew had been in the kitchen too. Now eating from his plate of food, Steven blinked at the both of them. “That is great, Shane!” He stressed, his mouth curved into a smile, “how the hell man, that’s actually _really_ good, you’ve only been promoted five months ago?” 

“See,” Ryan turned his head back to him, “we’ll celebrate, the three of us later after work okay? I’m really proud of you, Madej, you’re climbing that ladder,” Ryan packed up his half-eaten lunch, and took advantage of Shane's squat to lift himself and kiss Shane’s mouth, tasting of lettuce and happiness.

“What ladder is that?” Shane taunted, helping Ryan with his things and studied him for a moment to make sure that his scarf was around his neck.

“It’s a metaphor, you’re taller than the ladder,” Ryan snapped his fingers at him, he walked over to Steven and kissed his temple, too. Steven pushed him away with a smile. “I’ll see you both when I get off work. Love you!” Rushingly out the door, Ryan was gone and Shane was left with his nephew.

Steven had that smug smile on his face, he didn’t say a word though, kept eating his food wordlessly until Shane would acknowledge what just happened.

“Why do you look so smug for?”

“No reason,” Steven crooned, his voice bubbly, “it’s nice to see you both living together. A grocery list? See you before work, _love you_? Really, Shane?”

Shane’s smile faded, “we’re not—we’re not _living_ together. Ryan’s looking for an apartment.”

“He is?” Steven stopped eating, “why? I thought you asked him to move in with you?” 

“I told him to stay with me after Dodge Ridge until he gets back on his feet,” Shane shook his head, and leaned his elbows on the counter, “I guess he has. He’s dedicated to move out as quickly as possible.”

“Doesn’t it occur to you that he might think that you don’t want him here?” Steven pursed his lips, “no, let me rephrase that, do you think he thinks he’s a burden? I’m sure the both of you didn’t think to ask the other about moving in together.” 

“We’ve been dating for five months,” Shane noted, “that’s _excluding_ the months we spent apart. I don’t think he’s ready to move in.”

“What about you?” Steven inquired, digging back into his lunch, “do you want to move in together?”

There wasn’t anything wrong to believe that moving in together would change things. It would test their relationship again, giving them lots of time to spend together, sharing closets and drawers, spending the mornings grudgingly scrambling for toothbrushes and shaving cream.

He stopped. Shit, that sounds amazing.

Of course he wanted Ryan to stay with him, when he had been living at Kelsey’s apartment, he saw little of Ryan and only texted or called him. Even if they were in the beginnings of their newfound crush for each other. Spending time away from Ryan was normal, there would be days were Ryan would be a thought in his mind until he texted him for a lunch date. Living together would contradict that, for sure.

“I’ll be okay if he doesn’t want to,” Shane shrugged, “I’ll still see him and he can have his space. If he wants to, I wouldn’t complain either.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” Steven denoted, “because you didn’t ask him. Ask him _tonight_ , Shane."

"Why tonight?"

"Because if he signs any lease form, you will owe him for the cancellation fee when it ends up that he _does_ want to live with you. How hard can it be, uncle?” 

Turns out. Really fucking hard. 

Dinner was fantastic, most of the attention was on him for the entire night. Which was nice, though Steven’s advice circled in Shane’s head, too. Every look over to Ryan’s direction made him queasy with anticipation over what he’ll say if he asked about moving in together. At least Ryan wouldn’t be angry that he asked, hopefully not.

The problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to ask him. Everytime he did, his words swirled together or start babbling. Ryan’s answer meant so much to him, there’s no telling how Shane would react to either a yes or a no.

The deity that lived inside him _screamed_ at him, it wasn’t like he was proposing, for god sakes. He was only asking _will you move in with me?_

Might as well ask ‘will you marry me?’ his brain teased him. Which _sucks_ because he didn’t get a change to ask Ryan _anything_.

The look on Steven’s face when they got home said it all, remnants of arrogance behind his smile. The _I’m going to bed early, night guys_ ticked Shane to his breaking point and he was left alone with his boyfriend with the life-changing question in mind.

“So,” he began, shifting from one foot to the other, “tonight was nice.”

“Was it?” Ryan grinned, his eyebrows rose at Shane’s inability to ask him a fucking question. “I think I can agree.”

“Mhm,” Shane nodded to himself, still dragging his socked feet around.

Ryan stood a few feet away from him, close to the doorway of Shane’s bedroom and moving his eyes back and forth. “What is this? What are we doing?”

Fuck if Shane knew. Ryan looked as if he wanted to retire for the night and walk into the bathroom, so his genius self blurted out what was in his head. “The apartment!” He paused, “the apartment you’re looking for.”

“Yeah?” Ryan spread his arms, “what about it?”

_Yeah. What about it, Madej_? It’s not like he could say ‘it’s bad, don’t move.’

So again, he didn’t think before answering back a few moments later: “I found another. You might like it,” he lied, “there’s like—” 

“Is that… really want you wanted to tell me?” Ryan laughed to himself, “okay, big guy. We’ll talk about it in a moment, I need to shower or something.”

He turned around, another laugh escaped him. He was walking away from a wretched Shane, there was no way he could do it, Ryan looked happy when he was inside those empty apartments—abruptly, from his view of Ryan, he saw him pause.

When he looked up, Ryan was leaning on the doorway. “Shane. I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m going to flat out say it. I don’t want to move out. And something tells me that you don’t want me to leave either.”

Something— _someone_. _Steven_. God damn that man.

Shane swore under his breath, “I _knew_ I couldn’t trust him.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me, baby?” Ryan’s eyes bore into him, two orbs flashed with bafflement. “I felt how nervous you were tonight, it was—sweet to know that you were but god, it’s _hard_ to deal with it myself.” 

“How did you even find out?” Shane didn’t bother to hide the fact that Ryan knew, he felt awful that he left Ryan hanging all night. “Did he leave you on a phone call and you overheard? Better yet, did he text you—” 

“He told me before we left,” Ryan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never was actually going to move out but you acted as if you wanted me to.”

“I just wanted to give you space, because trust me, baby,” Shane shook his head, “you’re not going to have much privacy when we live together. You’ll be seeing _me_ all the time.”

“That’s a terrible thought,” Ryan gaped jokingly “I feel like I've seen most of you, naked or not. I don’t mind. You leave me for days sometimes and I'll be fine, I’m sure I can get used to sleeping in any other guest room when you get too much for me. Next time, just ask if I can move in because now it looks like I’m inviting myself in.” 

At that, Ryan pulled himself away from the doorway with a smile and took himself over to the bathroom.

“Wait,” Shane shouted, “do you want to move in?” Ryan’s laughter across the hallway was the answer he got, and maybe, moving in was the best idea he’s ever had.

 

* * *

 

A knock on his desk caught Ryan’s attention, he looked from the email he was reading and found himself face-to-face with TJ. His boss was giving him a goofy grin, drumming his knuckles on the surface but he kept quiet. Whenever he does this, all Ryan has to do is stare back at him.

Weeks into working at this company, Ryan picked up TJ’s mannerisms easily. He was harder to please than Diana’s boss in Dodge Ridge, though, Shane being friendly towards him had given him brownie points. Ryan had no choice to let him win this time, he had a few deadlines to meet after all. “What is it?”

“I need you to do me a favor,” TJ’s smile faded away, as if he wasn’t messing around with Ryan’s desk, he straightened up. “A couple of our publishers can’t _publish_ because they don’t have the ‘proper’ transcripts,” TJ found this ridiculous for sure, he was using air quotes obnoxiously. “We have the transcripts.”

“Got it, do you need me to fax them?” Ryan turned back to his own work. He had the fax numbers posted somewhere—

“I need you to take them personally.”

“You—” Ryan gave him a glare, “you must be joking.”

“I’m not,” TJ said, “It’s a few blocks from here, I’ll let you go for the day if you do this for me.” 

Ryan blinked, it was three in the afternoon, if he ran for his life, he could be home by _four_. “But I have work to do—”

“I’ll get one of the interns to help out,” TJ asserted, and because he was as manipulative as he was smart, he extended the arm behind his arm to reveal a inky binder, filled to the brim with papers Ryan assumed to be the transcripts needed.

“There’s the address on the sticky note, a few blocks, then you can go home. Enjoy your weekend, Bergara.”

Usually Ryan would refuse to do this, but his blood was _boiling_ with anticipation of leaving at three in the afternoon on a Friday. He spent no time to gather up his things, turn off his computer and make his way out of the building. The address was a few blocks away as TJ mentioned, a fifteen minute walk from his company to the next. Sadly, Ryan didn’t know what it looked like personally, his power to teleport could only go so far.

The walk wouldn’t be brutal, as warmer temperatures approached in February, he suffered through sixty degrees in the blistering sunny day. Ten minutes into his walk, he tensed at the unexpected arrival of his friend, he reached the corner of a crosswalk when this happened. 

His suspicions of who had appeared before him disappeared when Jen wiggled her eyebrows at him from the street light pole. “Hey, hot stuff. Heard you’re doing some errands.”

“I am,” Ryan voiced, he was getting better at knowing when Jen appeared to others and when she was invisible. She had some transparency to her, and because she’s willing to show off her new powers to the world, she often cheated her way by passing by people or objects. “You coming with?” 

“Thought you never asked,” she exhaled, “rough day today, Ryan, I got _just_ finished having a conversation with a living human other than you.”

“That’s exhausting for you?” Ryan laughed, then thought about it, “yeah, it actually makes sense. Now you must know how to feels to speak to another adult constantly, it’s almost as if you’re—wait, where are you going?”

“Uh,” Jen fell back on their walk, she patted herself, looking around her pants as if she had lost something. “I think I forgot my phone, I’ll meet up with you,” she turned around, waving a hand and jogging over to the crosswalk.

“Your phone?” Ryan drawled, “where the hell did you get a—” he stopped in the middle of his sentence when Jen decided that it’d be a great idea to dodge any pedestrians and cross the street at a _green_ light. He had a panicked somewhat but he remembered that she—

Suddenly, the sounds of tires screeched in the concrete following the the honk of a car rang in his ears. He peered at the scene in bewilderment as Jen hit the side of the car, her body flying a few feet away and landing on her side with a thud. He stood dumbly wondering what had happened when the owner of the car who hit her stopped and got out, the man looked just as terrified and Ryan finally clicked it in his mind when the man looked at Jen.

He ran over to her, binder still in hand and moved faster than he ever had before. Jen stirred slowly, her face stuck in a pained expression, “Jen, Jen. Are you okay?”

He bent down, placing the binder on the pavement and helped Jen to her feet, she looked fine face wise, she had no scrapes or bruises anywhere on her. Then Ryan remembered that she was hit on her side and he lifted her shirt up. 

He was taken aback to see a bruise the size of the car’s bumper, darkened blue and purple-ish in color, cloaked around her waistline. “Oh my god, Jen,” he helped her balance herself.

“I’m fine,” she muttered out, and stood with the help of Ryan. “It hurt a little bit.” 

“Yeah, _yeah_ , that’s the problem,” Ryan spoke frantically, “are you insane? How could you do that? Come here and sit down.”

“Sorry, don’t you think she needs to go to the hospital?” The man who initially hit Jen had stood in the middle of the street with them, his own car blocking the road as he tried to inspect the damage he’s done.

“I’ll take her,” Ryan answered, “she’ll be fine. Carry on and—” he gave the man a scowl, “try to drive slower next time.”

He balanced both Jen and the binder the best way he could. She was limping, cradled her side where the bruise had formed. The conversation loomed over them as Ryan reached the point where people didn’t surround them any longer. Taking Jen to a hospital wasn’t an option, the woman was a ghost for crying out loud, she was _dead_.

Yet, he was staring at a gigantic bruise.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

“You tell me,” Jen winced, adjusting herself on the park bench. “Fuck this hurts, what the fuck is the deal with cars?”

“Why didn’t you—” Ryan motioned at her, “ _ghost-fy_? Transparency? I don’t know, what happened back there?”

Jen breathed, her chest falling in rapid breaths as the shook wore off. “I did, Ryan,” she finally spoke, “I swear that I did. Don’t tell Shane about this, please.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes. That didn’t cross his mind at all, why would Shane be mentioned here? Did he know something about this?

“You got _hit_ by a car,” he blurted out. 

“Yes, I was there, Ryan.”

“In _broad daylight_ ,” Ryan continued, “that man _saw_ you. Those people could _see_ you. Jen, you were absolutely exposed to everybody and you couldn’t control it.”

Jen took in a sharp breath, her hand wrapped around her shirt and groaned. Leaning back on the dirty bench, “what are you saying?”

“I think that you’re losing control over your powers,” Ryan explained, “or somehow turning into a human. Take that as you will, you aren’t allowed to play human and ghost anymore like that,” he raised his hand when she opened her mouth, he looked pointedly at her hidden bruise, “you’re _not_ recklessly doing this anymore. You could have been killed. Again!” 

“Impossible,” Jen speculated, “I have no soul. Where would I go?”

“I don’t know!” Ryan, threw his arms into the air and let them fall. “You can barely walk now, I have to take this,” he pointed at the binder next to her, “to the publishers waiting for me. You’re going to stay here until I come back.”

“And then what?”

“Then we’re going to let you rest,” Ryan took the binder back into his arms. “I’ll treat it as best as I can. Don’t move from here, Jen, I _mean_ it.”

For the first time, Jen’s resolve faded. Her eyes no longer had the same mischievous glint to them, as she bared through the pain as a ghost and she nodded at him.

Ryan left her to deliver what he was assigned to do in the first place, leaving himself wondering if the events that transpired had actually happened before his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Shane observed the ghost in front of him. Sternly, he instructed them to repeat their actions with a nod, after a few more tries, he heard them groan exaggeratedly.

“It’s not happening,” Jen, the ghost, whined and held her nose in annoyance. “I can’t turn invisible _now_. It seems that these powers I have are controlling themselves.”

“We’ve learned that already,” Shane uncrossed his arms, “Ryan’s right. You have to stop overusing these powers. We don’t know where or how they came to you, better not to mess with them.”

After he finished his _with_ _great powers comes great responsibility_ speech, Shane went back to the location at hand. They were both on the third to last place on the list of locations Fate might be. Jen and Ryan’s old school had a playground, and across from it was a neighborhood this supposed ‘aunt’ of Ryan lived.

There had been no luck on both of their hands it seemed, Fate didn’t show herself in the last three hours they stood there. Or the last five times they’d checked.

They both knew that it was inevitable to continue looking for her, it was February now, almost Valentine’s day. A full three months since she appeared before him. She must be long gone, considering that she would _also_ bore herself to damnation stalking him.

Shane wanted to make sure that she was gone. Ryan’s safety was important to him, and he wanted to die without her looming over his shoulder waiting for him to disappear into thin air. To pass the time in their search, Shane asked Jen to try and grab onto any object around them. 

She couldn’t so far. As opposed to a few days ago when she was hit by a car.

She had told him before Ryan treated her bruised side, still a atrocious color and ached as she walked. Shane felt sorry that she had to experience pain in the afterlife as she was younger than him, a woman whose life ended tragically and _now_ had the ability to pretend as if she was alive, only to almost kill herself again by said abilities.

He narrowed his eyes over to her, she was bouncing her leg in place, both hands shoved into her jacket. “Is your side doing any better?”

“The color faded a little bit,” she admitted, still looking forward at her former school. “The pain bothers me though. It’ll heal soon, I think.”

“Be grateful you don’t have any internal bleeding.” 

“No blood in my body,” she remarked indifferently. “I don’t recommend getting hit by cars. You're a deity and all but it does hurts.” 

Shane snorted, “I feel pain, Jen.”

He left out the part where he was a human, she was a bit sensitive learning to keep herself in control. Just the other day she snapped when _he_ asked her if she could pass the salt, he wasn’t risking it anymore. 

Besides, he had been thinking about telling her about what Fate had told him. She trusted herself in keeping things from Ryan, things they both knew and didn’t want to tell him to let him continue his life afterlife-free. (But Ryan was dating him, and his best friend was a ghost.)

If Shane was going to die, the more people to keep an eye out for Ryan, the better.

Andrew hadn’t come to him in the past three months. Keeping himself out of Shane’s view it seemed, or doing his job. His promise was the only thing that kept Shane going; he hadn’t placed his plan in motion, over the holidays he kept himself busy with Ryan anyway. There was no telling at when he’ll reveal the truth to Ryan, but it seemed sooner than later.

“Jen—” 

“I know what you’re going to say.” 

Shane’s whirled around, “you do?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed, hugging herself with her arms. “I’m sorry that I told you to marry Ryan, my apologize is overdue. I won’t do it anymore, what time you have with him is important. Whether you get married or not isn’t your burden to carry.”

Well, it wasn’t what he expected.

He had forgotten that she had told him about their short time together. He had thought about that for months, he was tired of hearing about it now. There was no going back, it was his fault that he loved a human, a mortal human who was his soulmate. If he didn’t love Ryan, things would be a lot easier and he would have been dead by now.

Still, he wouldn’t go back in time to that day in November to ask Ryan to kill him before getting to know him. Before loving him.

“It’s alright,” he lifted his shoulder, “I don’t care anymore.” It was the truth. He was _this_ close to ending his life this year as opposed to a few years down the road. Ryan’s life wasn’t his to bargain for, “I have to speak with you soon, today is not the time. Come on, let’s head back.”

“What?” She followed when he started walking away, “what does that mean? Is it serious?”

“Yes,” Shane answered honestly. “I just—”

_Need to know if you’ll take care of Ryan, keep him happy because he’ll be upset when I’m gone._

“I’ll tell you about it soon. Don’t think that I’d forget that you were hit by a car, Jen. Stay with Maycie for a while, _don’t_ encourage her to use her own abilities.” 

“I promise, chief,” she patted her chest. “Should we meet tomorrow at your house, or at the location?”

“Neither,” he replied. “Fate is gone, we’re not going to look for her anymore. I’ll be heading out to Chicago for a few days with Ryan tomorrow anyway, I’ll keep an eye out there.”

“For Valentine’s day? How sweet,” she cooed, jutting out her hip to bump his side, though she fazed through him. “Are you going to buy a dozen bouquets for him again?” 

“It’s his turn to buy them for _me_ ,” he quipped, it was true, he expected all dozen sometime tomorrow. “It’s for work. This is no honeymoon. We’re both busy adults.”

“Busy bees, both of you,” she teased lightly, pointing her finger at him. “I’ll catch ya later, man. Maycie’s out with Daysha and I want to check out what’s in store for me.” 

“Don’t get hit by cars, Jen.”

“Right back at ya, Shane!”

 

* * *

 

As promised, Shane went to work at eight in the morning the next day. He found himself in his office, organizing the paperwork he needed into a briefcase with Niki behind him talking away. He was passing the time waiting for Ryan, who hadn’t thought about packing until the last minute. Can’t blame him, Shane was currently packing _now_.

Being late meant that Shane didn't have time to eat, he multitasked and picked up his bowl of cereal. Carrying it around as he handed Niki papers to neatly arrange in his briefcase because otherwise, the damn thing wouldn’t close no matter how long he sat on it. 

“And wifey and I are thinking about adopting a child,” Niki continued casually, picking out pieces of lint from her blazer, “we’re thinking of a six year old girl, maybe older.”

Shane took a spoonful of his cereal, his eyebrows rose in surprise and he covered his mouth with his hand. “Really?” He munched the cereal, chewing quickly and digging over another folder. “That’s amazing. When?”

“We’re hoping by the end of the year,” Niki crossed her fingers, “we already have our eyes set on this one girl, so sweet. You’ll love her.” 

“Make sure you bring them along—here, look over these one last time,” Shane enunciated, transferring over a yellow folder, labeled _Chicago Feb. 14 2018._ “I would love to meet her, I’m great with children.”

Eh, he could be better. The last child he encountered was Steven, going through all of his childhood phases from sickness and puberty. He wasn’t _that_ bad of an adoptive uncle, Steven grew up to be better than him.

“Ryan said the same,” she laughed, fiddling with the papers one by one, “these look fine, Madej. You’ll be _fine_. You can do this.”

Shane tugged at his earlobe, his hand moved itself to the back of his neck and he massaged it. “I—thanks. Doesn’t make me less nervous.”

“It’d go away once Ryan is here,” she smiled, standing from her seat and shutting the briefcase.

This client in Chicago, this _meeting_ will determine if Shane would be promoted to his boss’ job. Head of the department, and a few floors below him, no longer working on pointless paperwork other than the client’s themselves, ordering employees around, setting up meetings, _and_ a larger, immaculate office than the one he had been offered.

When he found out that he was chosen to go to Chicago, he told Ryan when he was sleepily embracing his cup of coffee, though, he jumped with excitement when he understood the words coming out of Shane’s mouth. Shane felt bad that he had to be there by Valentine’s day, _so_ , he’s taking Ryan with him. Call it a short vacation. Ryan had always shown interest in Chicago anyway.

And because Niki’s never wrong, his eyes gleamed with cheerfulness when he heard a distant _sorry_! in the hallway towards his office. Hiding his smile, he cleared his throat and opened the door to his office, Ryan jogging his way inside. Suitcase in hand, filled with clothes he and Shane would share for two days; Ryan knew not to rush himself into packing, anything else that they needed they could get in a second.

He wore a black t-shirt under a gray sweater _and_ all topped with his brown jacket. His hair hidden by a gray cap, a few strands of black hair could be seen in his forehead, and he decided to skip shaving because _why not_ , he looked attractive with a stubble on his jaw anyway.

“I’m here,” Ryan smiled widely, “I brought you a croissant,” he waved a paper bag, tan in color and wrinkled.

“What would I do without you?” Shane joked, his stomach growled and he dragged his feet towards his boyfriend, giving him a kiss in greeting and took the bag away from him.

Ryan did bring him a croissant, golden brown in color and flaky, under it, was three tins of grape jam and four of strawberry jam. Shane wanted to groan in bliss, he was being spoiled. 

As he busied himself to his breakfast at his desk, Ryan and Niki carried on a conversation about whatever it is that they talk about. Niki's friend Devon could go on for _days_ about sensing spiritual presences in an empty room and… something about auras. Ryan listened to them, since he _did_ see these spiritual presences.

He found it amusing when Shane told him that Niki thought he was a witch, and then he fed on the idea, telling Niki that he and Shane met at a witch convention.

Funny. He was funny.

“I’ll leave you two to catch your flight,” Niki exposed her sleeve to catch the time on her watch, “you better get going if you want to be in Chicago by one,” she looked over to Ryan, “we’ll talk about auras and horoscopes next time, Ryan!”

_What a closing to a conversation_ , Shane thought. Niki left them alone and shut the door to the office, locked with a soft _click_. They sat in comfortable silence until Ryan hummed, “it could be nice to take a stuffy, two seater plane for five hours.”

“Don’t push it,” Shane glared, taking his briefcase in hand and held out his hand. “The croissant was good, thank you. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answered, “I ate two of them before coming here,” he patted his stomach, “might puke them out after we cross dimensions to Chicago.”

Shane laughed, leant down to press a kiss in Ryan’s capped covered head, and opened the door to his office. He held Ryan’s hand and they both stepped into the breezy Chicago morning, Shane breathed in the fresh air, strong winds rustled his hair in all directions. Beside him, Ryan shrank into his side, his eyes blinking open.

“Holy fuck, no fucking way,” he mumbled, “no fucking way, you were a _singer_ in the 20s? Are you kidding me?” Ryan guffawed, “and all of this time you focused on _me_ and my guitar skills _, but_ you were literally a singer! And damn good one if you ask me.”

He must have seen Shane’s short period of time in America during the Roaring 20s, how to pass the time and get money for that decade of his life _was_ singing, he might have taken training lessons from a few stars in Hollywood then, Greta Garbo _hated_ his guts, still he was honored to have a lady of her stature to hate him. 

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe I did sing. I did lots of things, I told you.”

“Never a singer! It didn’t even _occur_ to me.”

“It could have been better in my opinion,” Shane laughed, “I spent ten years in America before I fled, the stock market crash was no joke.”

Ryan still gaped at him, his jaw slacked, “I will _never_ forgive you for not telling me,” Ryan walked ahead of him, “a singer, what is wrong with this man,” he grumbled under his breath.

Shane smiled at his back, Ryan didn’t know where he was going. And because Shane was intolerable  _and_ in Chicago, he stepped to Ryan in two strides, reaching for him and pressed him to his chest. Then, he sang into his ear, the same way he learned a century ago. 

Ryan pressed his lips together, holding his smile from showing so, Shane sang louder. Making up the words as he went, and finally catching the eyes of other pedestrians, Ryan hushed him, smiling at him. 

Something told him that they’re about to have a _good_ time in Chicago.

After embarrassing Ryan in the streets of Chicago by singing to him, they found a hotel that had a room available for them. Chicago, unlike Los Angeles, was cold as hell in February. Ryan is human after all, he could get sick anytime from inhaling all the wintry air, and since he spent his first few hours in Chicago laughing his ass off, he might have a hard time with his throat tomorrow.

Shane left around three in the afternoon, leaving to Ryan nap on top of the hotel bed, covered in Shane’s own jacket. The location of the skyscraper was in downtown Chicago, in the heart of the city. The magnificent scenery of a crowded city, people in suits walked down the streets and dodged tourists. Shane strut leisurely to the skyscraper, a building with _way_ too many windows than what they could afford to have. 

No longer feeling the dread he was before, he made his way inside and to the receptionist desk. The interior was as elegant as the building itself, hints of gold, silver and hazel covered the entrance, paintings that Shane himself couldn’t afford if he tried to, furniture meant for decoration instead of actually _sitting_ on it.

He spent his time in said skyscraper surveying the area, taking in the decorations to the monumental designs of the rooms and offices. Whoever was in charge of the interior design here deserved to be, good lord, they had _taste_. He made it his mission to figure out who it was and offer them to fix the mess back home.

He did find out who it was. As well, giddy from the meeting being over in an hour tops. He stepped back into the hotel room, hearing the sink’s running water and Ryan craned his head to see him from the bathroom door. Ryan was rinsing his hair, slicking it back with water and gel, wearing a button down he packed. 

“You’re back!” He beamed, “how did it go?”

“You tell me,” Shane provoked, shrugging off his coat and tossed the briefcase on the table next to the hotel’s brochures and menu. “You’re looking at the brand new, _promoted_ executive of—”

“No way!” Ryan howled, gel fell from his hair and into his face but he ran over to Shane, latching onto him with booming laughter.

Shane had no time to catch him in time, laughing himself as he picked up his boyfriend slightly. He held him in his arms, smelling of shampoo and gel, Ryan wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down to him. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so, so proud of you!”

Shane faintly smiled, his mouth twitched. He hid his face in Ryan’s shoulder to cover his crimson cheeks, flushed and tingling from the praise he didn’t deserve.

Nobody in his life ever had him this weak in the knees, he had cheated his way into promotions, job after job, he didn’t _bother_ to try and do the work offered to him if it didn’t involve him manipulating a human being with the flick of his wrist.

This promotion, it was all him. He walked to the building and back, spoke in front of a group of bosses and cash-cows, offering them the opportunities and benefits to being affiliates with his company. Being patted on the back by said clients and being told _congratulations_ , _we’ll take it_.

And Ryan knew this. He pulled him away, Ryan’s hands cold to the touch when he cradled his face, pressing his forehead to his, bending him down to his short height. And... kissed him. 

Of course he did. Ryan's lips were moist and warm against Shane's, their connected lips separated and left room for Ryan to laugh softly over his mouth.

“I’m so happy for you, big guy. We’re going out to celebrate, yeah? Oh here,” Ryan jumped from his side, Shane immediately missing the warmth of his boyfriend.

Ryan dug through the suitcase, trashing the clothes inside before taking out what he was looking for.

“I got you this,” he extended his hand, a flush crept up in his face when Shane saw it. It was a card, one of those you’d buy in the store for a dollar fifty, decorated with a big heart hugging another one, the letters _love you with all my heart_ across from it. Shane opened it, flipped over to the drawing on this inside and bombarded with Ryan’s handwriting.

There were no words to describe what Shane felt in that moment. As his eyes narrowed at the words written for him, _for him_ by Ryan Bergara. Once he read it twice, he looked up to see Ryan standing by his side, a bouquet of flowers in his arms, shyly pushing them into Shane’s direction. He lost it then, a sob felt out of his mouth and he pulled Ryan close with his hand.

The flowers pressed on his chest, feeling their petals and stems on his skin. Ryan let out a gasp in surprise and then a chuckle, “it’s okay, big guy. It’s only a card.”

I love you, Shane repeated in his head. He rested his hand on Ryan’s back side, keeping him steady as he hid his face in Ryan’s collarbone. _I’m so sorry, I love you so much I can’t do this to you. I can’t leave you. I love you. I love you—_

_I’m in love with you._

“The flowers were last minute,” Ryan uttered out, his chest vibrated as he laughed, “I knew that you’d try to be extra and buy an entire stand, I would have if I had the—”

“Ryan,” Shane interrupted, he lifted his tear-stricken face, eyes on his boyfriend who grew quiet. “I’m in love with you.”

Ryan went limp in his arms, his lips quivered as he tried to gather up the words he wanted to say. Shane prepared himself for anything, _anything_ that Ryan would say but nothing prepared him for: “I’m in love with you too.”

In the course of a few seconds, Shane’s heart broke in half. He pressed Ryan to his side and prayed to the man who cursed him to give him more time with the love of his life.

 

_To Shane:_

_Right now I’m writing this as you work in your office, working for the promotion you’ve been trying to get. Staying up late, waking up earlier, all of it was for this moment. Soon, maybe already, I’ll give you this card and you’ll read it after you know if you got it or not._ _It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t, I’ll love you all the same. I’m proud of you, Shane, I’ll never stop being proud of the man you became to be since last Valentine’s day._

_I wish you luck in the future with me by your side. Love you, big guy._

_P.S I’m buying you a croissant in the morning, with extra grape and strawberry jam!_

_—Ryan_

 

* * *

 

Shane couldn’t take it anymore.

Like a whole in his chest, punched by the fist of his immortal life. He walked around, _staggered_ , around the living room with no destination in sight. The frustration in his stomach grew, bubbled through his body like a drug. His fists clenched, and the urge to hurl every object towards the wall. He had done it before, broke everything in his office in a period of two minutes and fixed it in less.

He could do the same. But at the same time, the source of his frustration was upstairs, sleeping in his bed. Ryan would hear what commotion he’ll do, the last thing he wanted to do was explain as to why he broke everything in the room.

He had to tell him.

He had to tell him that what Fate told him.

The love he felt for his boyfriend overpowered her threats, her orders to him, his promise to her that he would die. Ryan’s life was all he cared about, seeing him happy as he grew older, his hair thinning and grey, fingers calloused from playing that damned acoustic guitar too much.

He had to tell him before he loses himself.

No, he had to think about what he wanted to tell him.

That wasn’t it, he had more time to _think_. He had to act now. Closing the month of March, they were approaching April and the late upcoming spring fast. By now, Shane had moved offices, had his own floor that he controlled by himself with Niki. Ryan was still working with TJ, himself the leader of the research team, his voice worked as voice overs for authors with writer’s block.

Life was moving on with both of them happier than ever. And Shane was starting to feel Fate’s threats on his shoulders. With no sign of her, Shane stopped searching all together. He dreaded the fact that she’d given up on standing behind him like a scolding mother does with her child, now sided with the fact that Ryan could die at anytime by accident or, _god_ , by his hand.

Blinking away tears, Shane ran a hand through his hair and froze when he heard the door to his bedroom open. He pivoted over to the kitchen, hiding away his annoyance and preparing his boyfriend and himself a cup of coffee. He was working today, like Shane, going in around eight in the morning to start off their Wednesday.

Tousled, covered in a thin sweater, Ryan walked into the kitchen with a yawn.

“Morning,” he greeted, voice jarring and thanked Shane for the steaming cup of coffee with a kiss, “you kicked me this morning.”

“Did I?” Shane chuckled, taking a sip of his own coffee, letting the liquid burn his tongue numb. “Sorry about that, might have gave you a fright.”

Ryan snorted, “a fright. Did you make pancakes?”  
  
“Mhm,” Shane placed the plate of golden brown pancakes on the counter, shoving them over to Ryan and setting down maple syrup on his side. Ryan wasted no time to eat, devouring his food as Shane cleaned his kitchen. It was his turn to make breakfast, Ryan took a liking to his pancakes recently.

He watched Ryan eat from the corner of his eye, setting the soiled pan and utensils in the sink. The words he wanted to tell him were on the tip of his tongue, all scattered around his brain in fragments. In case he spoke incorrectly, he kept his mouth shut.

“Thank you for the food,” Ryan lifted himself, kissing Shane’s chin by the sink, covering his skin with syrup left over his mouth. The kiss had been enough to ask for more, he turned his head to Ryan and leant down, taking his sticky lips in his. He’ll never get tired of _that_.

“We don’t have time,” Ryan mumbled in between a kiss, laughing he pulled away, “I have to go now. I’ll call you at break or not, I don’t know how TJ is handling things today.” 

Shane smiled, he nodded, “be safe, baby.”

Patting his cheek, Ryan gathered his backpack, his keys and sunglasses all at once. Shane watched him leave from the living room to the front door, closing it behind him and into the sunny morning of L.A. Relief filled him when Ryan’s job was on the other side of the door, he was safe, he was fine.

No incidents had occurred to Ryan since Dodge Ridge. At least not as major. He got the flu sometime in February, sick in bed with a fever warm enough to scare Shane and _almost_ dragged him to a hospital.

Besides that, Shane had been with Ryan almost daily, whenever he wasn’t Ryan never forgot to inform him that he was safe. Sometimes he did, though Shane would know that he was fine, TJ took lots of videos with Ryan in them and posted them on his social media.

Worrying about Ryan tired him. His boyfriend loved to do things outside, whenever he wasn’t around, Shane had himself wondering if Ryan was alright for only a _second_ then it backfired and he’ll die in concern when he thought about all the things that could happen to him when he was gone.

Fate shouldn’t have threatened him, he would have been fine. They could have been fine. 

His work day was average. He tried not to overwhelm himself with things that he didn’t need to do, a simple day ordering his employees around to print this, fax that. Niki was a big help, she was in the process of leaving earlier to meet the social worker’s quota, though she got her shit done in less than three hours, maybe two if she was wearing heels.

“Here you go boss,” she said, opening the door of his office with her hip. She carried a black to-go plate and set it down in front of him. “Have something to eat before the meeting at three, also Mr. Anderson’s outside, he wants to speak about his daughter’s company with you personally. Told him to wait half an hour.”

“You can send him in now,” Shane replied, although he was in the same room, he heard his own voice from miles away. It was monotone and flat, no apparent emotion in him. “I don’t particularly mind. Thank you for the lunch, Niki.”

Niki’s eyes wavered, she didn’t say anything and nodded her head. “The meetings at three, do not forget, Madej.” She was close to his office door when she turned back around, “I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

Shane looked up from his lunch, digging into the pasta, he raised his eyebrow and waited for Niki. She stood still however, her mouth opening and closing, finally when she cleared her throat she smiled. “Nevermind, boss. I’ll come back to check on you. I’ll inform Mr. Anderson.”

That sparked curiosity in the pit of Shane’s stomach, when his office door clicked shut, he wondered what that was all about. Niki was human, that was for sure. There were records of her, her wife wasn’t made-up either. The social worker they were driven to please had come to Shane for inspection reasons—nice lady, kind heart.

It could have been a million other things. She could be worried about his attitude, she could have asked a genuine question about her personal life and chosen not to do so. But after the time he was leaving work, his mind went back to a certain deity. Curse her for mingling into his life to begin with, it wouldn’t surprise him if she were to threaten the humans he was fond of.

He wanted to let out a bellow of frustration, to release all the emotions that gathered up in his brain. There was lots of different scenarios in his head, _all_ of them involved somebody dying. Why? Why did all of them have to give him the image of Ryan dying before his eyes?

A piece of him didn’t care when he stepped out into the L.A street, spring rain hitting him from all directions. The downpour of cold droplets from the clouds above him stained his clothing, messed up his hair and soaked him to the bone. He couldn’t care less that he was shivering on the spot, his legs took him home. Like a robot, he wandered around chilly, wet L.A. 

What would he do? 

He had learned his lesson already, all those people he had killed were on his bloodstained hands. Brothers, fathers, sons and daughters. People that he grew up with and would eventually go into the battlefield with. They had pilgrimaged villages, stolen from them ruthlessly to abide their king. Shane led them in the front. 

All the sins he committed, his greed for power and strength did not define him. It didn’t define the man he is now. He fought his way out of that black pit of depression he endured for _centuries_.

What happened in the past did not define him. 

_You live too much in the past, Shane_.

That man wasn’t Shane. He learned to grow from his mistakes. Damn it all, Shane, in his desperate moments had done this once before. He folded his hands together and shut his eyes, rain slowed to a drizzle as he prayed to the man who had cursed him.

He had no shame, no guilt or regret over praying to the almighty man who cursed him for life. So, he prayed for mercy, muttering under his breath, he prayed for Ryan to be spared. If God was all about forgiveness, he could understand that Shane’s downfall was love. 

However, he didn’t listen and Shane was left in the rain alone, nobody answered his prayers.

 

* * *

 

The front door opened, Shane jumped from his seat, rubbing his thumb over his nostril and shook out the dampen shirt he wore. Revealing a joyous Ryan on the other side of the door, he walked in, umbrella in hand and his backpack over his shoulders. His cheeks were flushed, a healthy ruby color as opposed to Shane’s deadly pale.

“I’m home!” Ryan called out, taking off his shoes at the entrance of their house. He shrugged when Shane didn’t answer back to him and left his things in the coat stool for later, he peaked over the entrance and to the living room, Shane waved at him pathetically.

“Welcome home,” he muttered, “come sit.”

“Shane,” Ryan’s smile faded from his face, “why are you wet? Did you walk in the rain?” 

“I did,” he nodded, then repeated himself, “come sit on the couch with me.” 

Ryan didn’t bother to hide his hesitation, he was looking at a soaked, quivering Shane, with his collared shirt untucked from his worthless pants. Ryan’s head turned to the dining room, “you lit all those candles.” 

“I was cold,” Shane confessed pitiably, patting the less wet, warmer side of the couch with his hand. Finally, Ryan gave in, walked to his side of the couch and sat without question. He relaxed, his shoulders rolled once and he inched closer to Shane.

“I have to speak with you,” Shane implied, not before dragging the tray he had on the coffee table, “do you want coffee? Tea?”

“Anything is fine,” Ryan speak for: I’ll have what you have. Shane busied himself to fix up Ryan’s mug of tea, when he poured the steaming water into his cup, he slowly went on. 

“You remember that you told me about your aunt, the one who taught your mother Spanish and cared for you?” When Ryan nodded, saying his thanks when Shane handed him his warm tea, cradled it in his hands, “I have my reasons to believe that she had been disguised at Fate.”

“What makes you think that?” 

Shane pursed his lips, “she doesn’t show her true self to others, Ryan. Think, you don’t remember a woman of tall height? Olive skin, black hair? That doesn’t cross your mind? She wore red for a millennia—”

“Red,” Ryan interrupted, he blanked out before shock crossed his features. “Oh _fuck_ , I saw her. That was her.”

“What?” 

“In December,” Ryan placed his mug on the coffee table and turned to face Shane, “we argued and I went out. I saw a glimpse of a woman in red from outside the café I was in. She looked familiar—she was the lady who took me to my real aunt’s house. Was that Fate?”

“It could be,” Shane frowned, “you saw Fate and you were _alone_ with her?”

“Jen came in after I saw her. I knew it was funny when she did, she refused to leave me alone.”

Shane sighed in relief, if Fate hated one thing it was the unnerving presence of spirits around her.

“Do you believe that she was my mom’s friend?”

“I do,” Shane declared, “if that were true, Fate would have disguised herself for years during your mother’s pregnancy and your childhood. I have my reasons to believe that she waited nine years for you or your mother to die and,” Shane swallowed, “Ryan I’m sorry, I believe she had been sure you’d be the one to die so she could take your soul.”

It didn’t end there, once the words Shane said processed in Ryan’s mind, he looked away and to the floor. “But I didn’t die.”

“No,” Shane added, “your mother’s soul is in Fate’s hands, she doesn’t exist. I’m so sorry Ryan.”

Ryan stood from the couch, covering his mouth with his hands. Pacing back and forth in front of Shane, he kept himself from crying, though his eyes welled up with tears and a sob escaped him.

Shane stood himself, wrapping his arms around Ryan, holding his head with his hand and held him close. Ryan had his hands on his mouth, muffling the bawls that he released. 

If Fate found him again, he would rip her throat out. He’ll disintegrate her into ashes for causing a life’s worth of pain to the person he loved. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t show herself, the truth was bound to find its way into their lives.

“She told me something that I’ve been worried about for months,” Shane whispered, Ryan’s sobs subsided to sniffs and hiccups now. Crying on his collarbone, Ryan tilted his head over to him, _fuck_ , his eyes were puffy and swollen.

Shane rubbed his thumb underneath Ryan's tearful eye, “she did threaten me. But I never told you what she threatened me with. Your _life,_ Ryan. She threatened to kill you if I didn’t die.”

Ryan’s adam apple bobbed as he swallowed, fighting away tears, the corner of his lips curved upwards for a moment. “I understand why you didn’t want to leave me alone with her. She doesn’t sound like a nice woman.” 

“That’s not—that’s not all of it. You’ve had accidents in the past, none of them are coincidental. Your life is cut short because of me. You’ll die if I don’t die.”

The silence that followed had been tremendous, Ryan pressed to his chest, breathing in and out. Shane closed his eyes and leant down to hid his face in Ryan’s hair, pressing a kiss on top of his head.

“I’ll die if I don’t remove the sword, is what you’re saying?” Ryan muttered into his shirt, his voice had been hoarse from crying out of nowhere. Shane didn’t get the chance to reply before Ryan released a fit of chuckles, “add that to the list of shit we have to deal with.”

Wait, I’m sorry what? 

“Excuse me?”

Ryan drew away from the embrace, his cheeks drenched with dry tear tracks, but he was smiling as wide as before. “I learn something new about us _weekly_. Monthly maybe, but this? It’s a long time coming. I mean—I almost died of hypothermia and it’s because I didn’t want to kill you? Fate has her work cut out for her.”

Not comprehending what he’s currently listening to, Shane stiffened and scratched his forehead, “I’m sorry, run that by me again. You’re laughing because—?” 

Ryan actually laughed this time, with the back of his hand he wiped away the tears that fell from his eyes. “All those incidents I had, _all_ of them, you were there to save me or helped me. You sensed that I was in trouble _twice_ , there’s no way that I could die if I was with you.” 

“Ryan,” Shane drawled, “you’re on thin ice here, your life is constantly in danger.”

“Whose isn’t?” Ryan countered, “everybody faces the possibility of death everyday.” 

“It’s not the same,” Shane said desperately, “baby, this is your life we’re talking about. I couldn’t bare the thought of losing you because of me.” 

“How do you think I feel? How could I be the one to kill you and then move on with my life? Right when you have the chance to be yourself after all these years?” Ryan chewed on his bottom lip, “I couldn’t ever bring myself to end your life.”

“What do you suggest we do?” 

“What do you think?” Ryan smiled, “I thought we already had this talk,” Ryan pivoted to him, he raised his head to look into his eyes and lifted his hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down.

“You and I love each other, so we’ll get through it _together_ , it’s us against the world. We won’t let anybody choose our futures for us. Doesn’t matter whose life is in peril.”

Shane looked down at Ryan, a tear falling from his eye and past his cheeks. He didn’t blink or move, he stared as Ryan’s smile disappeared. “We’ll love each other,” Shane stated, “I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

“Shane—you’re crying.” 

“I’ve cried more over you than I did in centuries,” another tear fell from his eye, he kept his smile plastered on his face, “I was sure I had run out of tears. It seems that we do learn new things every day.”

Ryan snorted, his fingers tickled his nape before falling to his shoulders. “Does this mean we have to get married?”

Shane bursted out laughing, his tears fell in excessive amounts as his eyes squinted. “Why the hell not? What else do we have to lose? How do you feel about an autumn wedding?”

Ryan laughed with him, “we have to fill in our taxes together after all. Next year, let's fill in our taxes together.”

“Always baby,” Shane mumbled, leaning his neck down to capture Ryan’s lips, kissing him deeply. No longer did he feel the pressure on him, looming over him.

He didn’t feel like a peasant carrying weights on his back, wandering alone in the streets with a pained expression on his face. Ryan had walked to his side and took one of those weights, if not all, asked for his help with a smile and walked with him.

It was how they’d be for as long as they had together. They’ll love each other until the end of their time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://mlnseo.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope everyone has had a good Friday. I have returned from a short-lived hiatus. Classes started in the middle of August so my free-time was /so/ limited. I edited both final chapters as fast as I could (please excuse any grammar error!) 
> 
> Well, this is it. The second to last chapter! I want to personally thank everyone individually for reading and commenting and what have you, but also I want to thank everyone who gave my story a chance, I see you guys! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!!! I have one chaptered fic in the works, (very, /very/ much in pre-planning) but I was thinking of publishing one-shots. Not now... I'm also taking a hiatus from the boys and focusing on school and my new obsession with another k-drama!
> 
> With so, so much love, <3 <3 I hope you all enjoy these two chapters. In advance, I apologize for any heartbreak, since this chapter has **major character death(s).**

**CALIFORNIA, 2018**

He remembered the time he thought about Shane at work. Kelsey, wiping the bar counter and flipping said washcloth over her shoulder as Ryan drummed his knuckles on the marble. He thought about Shane—a deity who had the power to turn the world upside down—who would do anything for Ryan, vice versa.

Ryan had been dating said deity for over a year, and because he met him from summoning him accidentally, he became aware of how bothersome it was for his boyfriend to pop in out of  _nowhere_ through space. So, Ryan would summon him often.

He watched the flame, cherry in color and spreading it’s smokey wings around him. He smiled, waved the match in his fingers and towards the small, peach candle sitting on top of his desk. Enclosed by papers and binders, a pen sat on his side, he observed the brilliant flame dance in the fragrant candle. Because he was a deity’s soulmate, he blew the flame from the match. 

Ryan smelled him first, the aroma of ground beef and oregano filled the room and he laughed. “Pasta, again?”

Shane Madej didn’t see him, he stood with his spoon halfway in the air, dressed in an apron.

“What the hell,” he blinked over to Ryan, “I left the stove on, idiot! Of course I want pasta, who doesn’t?” 

“At least make decent meatballs,” Ryan smiled.

“Noted,” Shane's mouth curved into a smile, mocking his boyfriend before he moved his body to the door, “oh, did you eat yet? It’s close to lunch, right? I’ll bring pasta to you and we can eat together.” Shane gave him a thumbs up and walked away, taking the sweet smell of food away from him.

“Don’t forget the mozzarella!” Ryan called out to him.

Having a zippo lighter worked too. Sometimes Ryan would walk up the stairs of his workplace, he'll pause for a second and take it out, flicking it open as he walked. Blowing it once he was nearly up there and smiled when he heard the startled shriek of his lover, clutching the rail.

“You’re lucky I landed on my feet,” Shane warned, wearing his suit for work and a book in hand “I was at work too, Ryan.”

“It’s payback for telling TJ I believed that the Phoenix lights phenomenon in 1997 was _aliens_.”

“You do believe it’s aliens,” Shane glowered, “you’re twisting your own words. Since we’re already here, do _you_ even work?”

“I do." 

“You’re spending an abysmally amount of time summoning me here instead of working.”

“What about you,” Ryan pointed at the book in Shane’s hand. “Aren't _you_ working, executive? Why are you reading _The Shining_?”

“Why not?” Shane grinned, waving the book around and in it’s used glory. “Got it for five bucks,” Shane leaned on the rail again, crossing his legs together, “you and I both know that we’re tight on money right now. Water bill is on you now.”

“I really hoped you’d fall down the stairs,” Ryan squinted his eyes, huffed and turned away, Shane’s booming laughter echoed through the stairway, and Ryan slammed the door behind him.

He laid in bed once, staring at the ceiling with sagging eyes and the lamp in the bedroom on. He had his phone in hand, the candle app he installed over a year ago opened, and he sighed. He was bored, and he knew not to but what did he have to lose?

He tapped on the candle and it flickered into life, he blew on it for good measure and cheered when it worked. A heavier, taller body pressed by his side, on top of their white, navy covers. Shane’s face was one of impish annoyance, making Ryan smile and giving him an excuse as to why he called him in the first place.

“You’re just messing with me now,” Shane told him, but couldn’t resist to smile back and winded his limbs over Ryan. “I was working on something important.”

“You could use that energy on me,” Ryan teased, “for testing purposes.”

Shane’s head flickered back, “are you… suggesting I have sex with you _now_? I’m in the middle of a client call—wow, it’s like you read my mind, scoot over, I’m about to wear you out to the point you _stop_ summoning me.”

Ryan giggled, his laughter echoed in their bedroom as Shane tickled him, ruffling his hair and kissing every part of his face—

Then the image disappeared. 

He saw a figure behind his eyelids, an obscure form of the man Ryan knew. His limbs pale, though his face and shoulders tanned from excessive hours out in the sun, a beard that hid his neck, scrawly and lanky... but what caught Ryan's eye the most was the fated object in the man's hand. 

His knuckles purple form the exertion he used gripping the hilt of the sword, his hand stirred and Ryan caught the gaze of the man's crazed expression before he opened his mouth to call out for him. That was Shane—

And the sword plunged into Shane's chest, a splatter of crimson stained his vision and all he heard was Shane's cry of agony—

Ryan’s eyes snapped opened, his body leapt from bed and to an upright position. His chest fell into rapid breaths, recovering from what he dreamt of. His hand wiped his sweaty, feverish forehead, pulling back his black strands with his palm.

Holy shit. he looked to his nightstand, his glasses rested by his phone and the zippo lighter beside it.

His hand reached for it, the faded silver from a year ago, almost two. He cradled it close to his chest as he calmed himself down, and with the endurance of a marathon runner, he opened it and flicked it on. It took him three consecutive tries before a flame appeared before him. The flame aglow, warmth dispersed to his face as immediately

“Shane,” he called, “are you there, Shane? Please don’t tell me I dreamt this, _please_ ,” his head lowered to his knees, his hand gave up into holding the flame and it disappeared before he could extinguish it himself. He panicked when he heard nothing, right when the door to their bedroom opened. 

“It’s okay,” he heard from his side, hands touched him and he looked to see Shane. His eyes alert and dressed from his formal attire to the plaid shirt Ryan picked out for him, stubble ticking around his jawline. “It’s okay baby, I’m right here. It’s not a dream.” 

Ryan exhaled in relief, his hands reached to touch Shane’s face, fingers caressing his rough, bearded face. He was real, he _was_ here. “I can’t stop dreaming of you, literally.”

“I have that effect on people,” Shane joked lightly, his own hand on Ryan’s thigh, “take deep breaths Ryan, don’t put so much pressure— _baby_ ,” Shane inched his body closer to Ryan, his arms on both side of his stiff self. Ryan relaxed when he felt Shane’s aura, “it’s okay, come on, breathe with me.” 

A few breathing exercises with Shane helped Ryan come back to his senses. Though, his dreams rarely turned into nightmares, Ryan had lots of anxiety that they sometimes wouldterrors.

He’ll dream of a blood—Shane drenched from head to toe, insanely swinging his weapon in a battlefield. He’ll dream of apparitions of people who he had killed, their souls unable to rest from being murdered.

Seeing Shane like that brought fear to Ryan’s heart. The possibility that his boyfriend—the person he loved the most in this word—was capable of killing a human being, especially when he’d threatened _non-humans_ before. It petrified him.

Ryan sighed, blew out his cheeks and met Shane's wary gaze. From the dim lit lamp in his bedside table, he saw Shane’s blown pupils, hazel eyes watched him carefully, making sure he stepped no boundaries here. The serenity in his expression, the way he made sure to run his fingertips in Ryan’s skin, everything he did was for Ryan’s benefit.

Ryan felt the bed dip to his side, a softer, fluffier shape reached for him. Tail wagging, his and Shane’s puppy jumped onto the bed and between them, back side shaking like no tomorrow. He laughed, holding his arms out for her, “Mickie! Where’s your sister, huh? Did you run her out of here?”

Mickie held their head up, gloomy eyes blinked at Ryan for a moment before setting their black, little head on his thigh. Ears twitched before her sister thumbed their way down to the bedroom. 

“They were in my office with me,” Shane scratched Mickie’s head, content with this, Mickie’s eyes closed. “I think they missed you, isn’t that right?” Dropping his voice to a high-pitched octave, Shane made kissy faces at Mickie before taking Mickie’s sister in his arms. 

Shane was against the idea of pets in their house. He had told Ryan one was _fine_ but because Ryan couldn’t separate siblings, he had no choice but to convince Shane that two was always better than one. He got used to them quicker than Ryan had thought he would.

“I missed you them too,” Ryan rubbed Mickie’s back, feeling their soft fur on his barren thigh, “and you,” Ryan rested his free hand on Shane’s nape, “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t go anywhere where you couldn’t reach me,” Shane admitted, he adjusted his glasses from falling off his face. “I thought you dreamt of me, how could you miss me when you _dreamt_ of me. At this point I would think you’d be sick of me.”

Ryan chose his words wisely when he described his dreams to Shane. Often he’ll leave details of the full dream, rephrasing them in a way that Shane couldn’t think much about it. Shane had a part of him that he kept locked away for the reason to open himself up on his own time. Maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, Ryan wouldn’t hold it against him.

“You’d _think_ that,” Ryan pressed his back on the bed frame, “you’re right. I am sick of seeing your stupid face.” 

Shane snorted, Dori, Mickie’s sister sat on his lap, pleased to have a warm spot. Shane focused on appealing to Dori's happiness, treaded his fingers through her short fur and toyed with her floppy ears.

“I think I’m going to take them on a walk in the morning,” he suggested casually, “the grocery list is done?”

“Yep,” Ryan stretched, “I wrote what we needed during dinner. Eat the tangerines, Shane, they’ll spoil if you don’t.”

"It’s a shared effort,” Shane cradled Dori’s head in his hands, puckering his lips, “isn’t it? You like the tangerines?”

“Diana sent us fruit with love,” Ryan pointedly smirked, “we have to eat them.”

He pushed away the covers and swung his legs to the side. Standing from the bed, Ryan raised his arms to the ceiling and cracked his stiff bones and tight muscles.

“Food from a ski resort hours away,” Shane drawled, making kissy faces to him, “you love fruits delivered from hours away, don’t you?” He wrinkled his nose in a smile when Dori’s tongue stuck out to lick his face.

“You ate all the mangoes,” Ryan yawned, looking through his drawer for his pajamas. Setting his sweatpants and a single shirt on the bed, Shane dramatically yawned too, falling backwards on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?” He asked, Ryan stopped folding his sweatpants to look at him. “It makes you feel better if you talk about it right?” 

_Sometimes_ , Ryan thought. This time, not so much.

There was an insidious awkwardness of describing his dreams that involved Shane killing somebody or _various_ people. “I don’t remember a lot of it,” Ryan confessed, “you were doing something. I just remember how unsettling it felt.” 

Shane sighed, “was I holding this?” He pointed to his chest, the sword wasn’t visible to Ryan’s eye, “if so, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Uh—I don’t—”

“It’s okay to say that you did,” Shane lifted himself, placed both feet on the ground and dragged his feet to Ryan. “I told you before that I would try to—” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbed, “I’ll try to open myself up to you more. This sword,” Shane patted his hand on his chest, above his pec. He tapped it, “it was my father’s.”

Oh shit.

Ryan’s eyebrows rose, “your father’s?”

“My mother kept his prized sword in safe-keeping, I—” Shane trailed off, his eyes moved erratically around the bedroom, he forced himself to make eye contact with Ryan. “I took the liberty to learn how to protect myself with it.” 

_Why? Why did you need it?_

“Wow,” Ryan gawked in awe, the sword had a totally different side to it now. It was personal, something that Shane had with him in adulthood and close to his heart. It was his _father’s_. How did it end up there?

Knowing his boundaries, Ryan didn’t ask any questions. This is… this was progress. The first time Ryan heard anything about Shane’s original past, when he _was_ aging and growing into the man he is now. 

“I hope this doesn’t change how you look at me—”

“I wouldn’t look at you differently ever,” Ryan cut him off, “even if you know how to swing a sword around here and there. That thing must have been heavy, how did you manage with those lanky set of arms?”

“Behave yourself,” Shane cocked his head in amusement, “I’m strong, I can do it.”

Ryan opened his mouth to object, then thought about it. “I don’t doubt you,” he raised his eyebrows, “you’ve proved yourself before,” he laughed at Shane’s reddening cheeks, “I’m going to bed, I have a meeting set up with TJ tomorrow.”

“That man loves his meetings,” Shane pondered, “I’ll be over in a minute, sleep on my side and warm it up for me, yeah?”

He walked out their bedroom, sliding the door open when Dori and Mickie followed him out. Their tiny paws tittering on the floor and bounced around his ankles.

Ryan wasn’t going to warm his side, they had two pups to do that for him.

 

* * *

 

His mother had told him to love with all he had, to love everyone and greet them with happiness everywhere he went. For love is what makes the Earth revolve around the sun, and he _was_ the sun to her.

So, the expression _time flies when you’re in love_ isn’t an exaggeration. At least, that’s what Ryan learned in the last few months.

Before he knew it—before he could _blink—_ he embraced adventures, things that he’d never considered in his life.

In the spring, he and Shane mended their relationship and made up for the months they spent apart. Communication was a given, they lived together, speaking and greeting Shane was in the norm for him day and night. To receive a text in the middle of the day, see the notification and shoot him a quick _okay_ or _thanks you too_ was so effortless for him.

They had worked well together. No longer had they hesitated to tell each other what they thought and _wanted_ to do. So when Shane came to him with the idea of selling the mansion of a house he had, Ryan was on board. And during the summer, they found a home.

Intersected in between both of their jobs, twenty to forty minutes away from _both_ , they bought a luxurious apartment.

(Thanks to Shane’s status and _money_ , of course. One of the few times Ryan was thrilled to have a deity for a boyfriend.)

Moving out of the mansion had been a pain in the ass though, Shane _really_ had a shit load of stuff that he didn’t need. Paintings, clothing, vinyls from every decade known to man, (to which he conceded he had wanted to give him for Christmas almost two years ago.)

Although Shane—two years ago—would have shown reluctance in throwing it away; he had gathered all his antiques and stored clothing to thrift stores, gifting it for _free_ in order for those in need of cash could get a hefty amount. _The Mona Lisa_ was finally _gone_.

(“That’s the fourth time I would lose or give this painting away,” Shane claimed, “Vinci would be rolling in his grave right now.” 

Ryan felt bad for laughing, “didn’t he threaten you? What kind of unhealthy relationship are you in with him?”)

He gave a few of Shane’s vinyls to his cousins when he visited them down in Sacramento. Now both grown men, enrolled in college or—as the older brother would state— _internships_. Ryan’s youngest cousin shown interest in music the most, and for his twenty-first birthday, Ryan took him to his first bar and offered him the vinyls he had.

He was thankful to him for the present but he told him that _this_ wasn’t his first bar. It was a given, he was  _Ryan's_ cousin.

Ryan’s aunt hadn't reached out for him, she held her commitment to stay away from him. Likewise, Ryan pushed her to the back of his mind. She was his mother’s sister, the only relative he had left aside from his cousins, though if she showed that she wanted no part in his life, he couldn’t disagree.

He found his own family in others, while his cousins told him that they could introduce him to his grandfather to _his_ grandmother, Ryan accepted. He was due to meet them around the holidays by the end of this year. He hadn’t seen his grandparents since his mother was alive, _excited_ didn’t cover it. He believed that he could introduce Shane as his boyfriend.

The thought of the holidays rolling in and seeing his family kept Ryan on his toes for weeks _._ All of that happiness emitted into their apartment and Shane had given up and decided to adopt a pet.

(He wanted a dog too, he couldn’t hide it from Ryan.)

They adopted Mickie and Dori by the end of the summer, when back to school sales and markdowns were back in stores. It was nothing like having a child, but it _was_ like having a child. They could no longer find the courage to leave them alone wherever they went, so they took them _everywhere_ with them. 

(Walking around with Shane and two dogs in a metropolitan city did not mix. In the country? Definitely.)

He couldn’t have asked for a happier time than where he is now with the love of his life and two beautiful puppies. Ryan couldn’t think of what could make it better.

The curse being lifted would deem his life perfect, he thinks. 

“Here,” he brought the bottle of water to Shane’s mouth, frowning when he turned his head.

“No,” Shane mumbled, his head fell from Ryan’s hands and back to the pillow.

“You have to drink something,” Ryan swallowed, taking Shane’s sweaty skin in his hands and pressed the straw to touch his lips.

“Please Shane, do it for me.”

Shane didn’t answer back to him, his slippery skin made it difficult for Ryan to hold and he resisted from putting too much pressure on his chest. Eventually, Shane gave him a slight nod and took a sip of cool water, his eyebrows knitted as he set himself back down on the bed. 

He woke up in agony, the sword visible and his wound bruised, hot to the touch. Ryan did what he knew to do, fluids was the first, rest was second. After Shane drank what he could, Ryan set the bottle on Shane’s bedside table and walked back around to his own side.

Mickie and Dori followed behind, “it’s okay,” he assured to them, hopefully to Shane if he was listening, “your father needs rest, that’s all.”

“Stop referring them as our children,” Shane whined, his eyes closed tightly, he opened his mouth to speak instead let out a whimper. Ryan hushed him and he held him close, careful not to stir him.

“You’re in no condition to tell me what to do,” Ryan mirthlessly laughed, fighting back tears, “they're ours and they’re here to comfort you.”

He moved his legs for their puppies to lie near Shane, holding their faces to his legs and watched him with tired eyes.

“Marital energy is stronger,” Shane shuddered, his chest began to slow and his skin cooled. He fell asleep before Ryan knew it.

The pain that Shane endured was decreasing down in intervals, no longer had it lasted more than an hour every other month. Though, it pained the _both_ of them in different ways, Ryan could only take care of him and lay next to him, their hands intertwined away from the blade.

 

* * *

 

Actually, if there was one thing Ryan would change—

“Why are you here?”

Shane blinked, “wha—what do you mean? Didn’t you text me?” He tossed his phone in his hand, “why are you eating? You texted me for lunch!”

Ryan chewed, savoring _his_  lunch he bought for himself. Shane watched in horror, he understood, the man just took time out of his day and teleported himself to Ryan’s job to _eat_ , his lunch period was shorter than Ryan’s.

“I didn’t text you,” Ryan insisted when he swallowed, “you got the wrong number.”

“You’re under ‘love of my life’ and with a gorgeous picture of yourself on my _phone_ ,” Shane declared, “who else would it be?” 

“Not me,” Ryan shrugged, taking another spoonful in his mouth and turned back to the computer in front of him, Shane groaned in desperation, “you have me under ‘miserable little guy’ with a picture of me yelling at you for filming me, I don’t know who ‘love of your life’ is. Maybe it’s Steven?” Ryan teased, he saw the glint in Shane’s eyes and he lifted his bowl of beans, taking a spoonful and raising it to Shane’s face.

“Do you think he changed his name on my phone?” Shane questioned, then bent down to take the spoonful of food into his mouth. Hungry Shane didn’t have any problems with eating Ryan’s food, Ryan loved to feed him anyway. “The little fucker, check your phone maybe he texted you.”

Maybe he did, Ryan crinkled his nose. He had been busy all morning, today was publishing day and TJ was hooked behind him like glue for _three_ hours.

After he had lost his voice from yelling across the room, he sat himself down in his vacated desk and read emails until lunch time. Because he was young and loved to multitask, Ryan ate at his desk and researched the updated case of Natalie Wood.

“He did,” Ryan said, flipping his phone over to see the _see me at one_ with the pinned location attached, “no time, I’m busy.”

“It might be important,” Shane cajoled, “he’s going to ask me for money, don’t you have any idea how I always wanted him to ask me for money?”

“We can make him dog-sit Mickie and Dori for cash,” Ryan hinted, he liked that. 

Mickie and Dori were _too_ much and they rarely had a special meal between them at a fancy restaurant because _Shane_ (and him, a little bit) couldn’t leave them at the apartment. “Fine, we’ll meet him, thirty minutes tops, I have to finish this before TJ turns me into one of those… taxidermy animals or something.” 

Shane squinted his eyes and laughed, “that makes no sense, just get your ass over here and hurry up I have fifteen minutes left.” 

“That didn't stop you last time,” Ryan grumbled, he walked past a bothersome Shane and to the door he walked from.

Ryan hadn’t been to the place Steven mentioned, Shane has _thankfully_. A chic restaurant, a lot less industrial but minimalistic, as opposed to Kelsey’s endless collection of wine and whiskey glasses. With succulents, vases covered in black and pristine white paint and pictures of abstract art on the blank walls.

Steven sat on the farthest table, legs crossed and enjoying a delicacy from what Ryan could see is cake with… gold? 

“Are you eating gold?” Shane inquired as they walked to him, “you don’t need money. You want to _eat_ it.”

“Sit,” Steven grinned, “I got you carrot cake,” at that Shane didn’t waste any time to sit and dig in his own piece of dessert. Ryan couldn’t argue either, if cake was in front of him in any situation, he’ll take it with open arms. His wasn’t carrot cake, but a sugary swirl of red velvet and berries.

“It’s amazing,” Shane blurted, “still doesn’t hide the fact that you’re in _Los Angeles_.”

“I’m working, relax,” Steven crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, but before I do, I wanted to show you this place,” Steven turned to Ryan then, “Shane and I used to come here when I was a teenager, it was a smaller, less pricey bakery but they turned to wedding cakes.”

“That’s—”

“I know it’s out of _nowhere_ but I thought it was necessary that you ask for my blessing in getting married,” Steven went on, “because obviously, Kelsey telling me through the _phone_ that you both decided out of nowhere to get married without my—” 

“What the hell is going on,” Ryan interrupted, “where did we say that?”

Steven—at the ready—took his phone out, an _Instagram_ post that showed both Shane and Ryan clinging to each other, mocking the posture one would to ask somebody to spend the rest their life with them. The caption was the icing on the cake, _we’re getting married_ and a shit load of surprise emojis.

“Oh fuck,” Shane put his fork down on the plate, “no way we drank that much, _I_ would have remembered that.”

“We’re not getting married,” Ryan verified, despite staring at the picture that said otherwise. “I don’t have a ring, _Shane,_ ” he lifted Shane’s empty, bare left hand, “no ring. There’s no marriage here.”

“I want you to ask for my blessing,” Steven took his phone back, “I don’t deserve to be in the dark about your marriage—”

“We’re not getting _married—_ ”

“—when I am your _nephew_ , I heard about it from _Kelsey_!” Steven threw his arms towards the ceiling, “I brought you here for cake testing! I say the carrot cake takes it.”

“We’re not getting married!”

“He’s right,” Shane mused at the same time, “the carrot cake is good.”

“Stop encouraging this,” Ryan glowered, “I don’t have a ring, you don’t have a ring, we’re not engaged.”

“If you get rings... would you be?” Steven asked, “perfect, I know the right store—”

“ _No—_ ”

“—If you ask for my blessing, of course. I would take responsibility to find you ideal matching rings.”

“I don’t need help,” Shane chimed in, he was still eating the damn carrot cake like a menace but he showed no playfulness in his expression. “I know Ryan enough to buy the ring myself.”

“ _Stop encouraging this_!”

Steven rested his head on his propped up elbow, his unfinished carrot cake beside him. It was too elegant to be an ordinary cake, Ryan should've known from the _second_ he walked inside. There were couples around them trying the cakes for god sakes, all happy and in love as they fed each other and Ryan had _fed_ Shane some of his. 

Wanting all of this to end, Ryan huffed, “Steven, if and _if_! We were to get married, we would love to ask for your blessing on behalf of your idiot of an uncle and myself.”

“I accept!” Steven slammed his hands on the table, loud enough to attract the other customers. Ryan ignored Shane’s flabbergasted look, his eyes widened as he kept his fork inside of his mouth, “it wasn’t like I wouldn’t want you as my uncle, I would _love_ you to be part of the family.”

There was that word again, and Ryan couldn’t help himself and feel happy for a moment. He smiled back at Steven, they weren’t getting married but let them pretend for the discount on cake taste testing.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, if Ryan knew he no longer had control over the ‘accidental proposal’ rumor, he wouldn’t have let it sit for days. Long enough for Kelsey to sit him down and dump a scrapbook on his lap.

“This is proof that nobody works,” Ryan—mesmerized by every page in the binder—contemplated.

He flipped through it, taped pictures from magazines, catalogs, all labeled with prices and the names of the stores in Kelsey’s handwriting. Once he got to the first quarter of the book, the heftiest portion that she labeled _alcohol_ , he knew that his friends believed he was getting married. 

“If you were working, you wouldn’t _be_ here,” she pointed out, swirled her red wine in her glass. “Look at page fifteen, that’s the champagne section.” 

“Oh I like this one,” he pointed to a picture of a ruby champagne bottle, topped with a beautiful black ribbon around it. “Would go with the—fuck you got me doing it,” he closed the binder, “I’m not getting married.”

“Wait until you see the reception I found for you, secluded, surrounded by pine trees and everything,” Kelsey held her free hand up, if Ryan could see into her brain, he would find her image of his fictional wedding. “The lake with crystal blue water, the arch in front of it where you'll be wed—”

“We’re _not—_ sorry, you said pine trees?”

Suddenly intrigued, Ryan skimmed to the reception section of the scrapbook. Pictures of the same place, all similar in location, forest themed or isolated by remarkable pine trees. “Oh my god, could you imagine this place during winter?”

“That’s exactly what I was _thinking_!” Kelsey snapped her fingers, “the colors are going to be bright and warm, you could wear matching suits! Shane expressed his interest in wearing a veil, unless you want to—” 

“This place is lovely,” Ryan lingered on the photographs before he looked back to Kelsey, “not getting married.” 

Kelsey stomped her foot, “come _on_. Pretend a little. I set up an appointment here for next week. Come with me and see it! I bet you’ll change your mind.”

“No ring,” he wiggled his fingers to her face, “I have Shane on house lockdown in case he’ll buy one to spite me.”

He stood up from the booth, even if it was in the middle of the week, Tasty had company that Kelsey tended to ignore. Drinks weren’t served until two _at_ most, however, she loved to break that pattern often. 

“I saw it with my two eyes,” Kelsey reminisced, “you proposed to him, he proposed to you in return. Romance is alive, Ryan.”

“There’s nothing romantic about six tequila shots in half an hour,” Ryan protested, “I have no ring! It doesn’t count.”

“The proposal doesn’t count unless the man himself has a ring,” Kelsey shook her head, placing her glass of wine on the counter, “I hope you realize once you have that ring, you’ll be screwed.”

“Stop guilt-tripping me into this,” Ryan told her, “because it might be nice to see, I’ll go to the reception appointment—oh my god, okay!” Kelsey clung to him, wrapping her firm arms around him and squeezed him, “I got it! I’ll go! But only to this one!”

“If you’re truly in love, you wouldn’t care about the place you’ll marry them at,” she murmured, squeezed him one last time before letting him go. “Have something to drink before hubby comes to pick you up.”

She’s right about that _._  He needed a drink.

Despite being one in the afternoon, Ryan dosed himself in beer and read emails, researched topics in the middle of Tasty. Nostalgia hitting him like a truck, he had done homework here a year ago, calculus homework and essays during his shifts. 

Kelsey didn't bother him, not even then. She left him be, spoke obstreperously with customers or laughed with them, though she left him alone with the scrapbook she made him.

Ryan caught himself looking over to it more than he should be, it was a reminder that he and Shane were in this ridiculous phase with their friends to set up a wedding that they didn't think to even participate in.

He would admit. It was sweet that she took the time to cut off magazine pictures, things that she found cunning for his hypothetical wedding and offer it to him with _labels_. Colored tabs and all! He couldn’t ask for anything better, and hey, if she wanted to see more receptions, maybe Ryan would take Shane with.

“Take me where?” 

“Holy _shit_!” Ryan jumped, hand flying to his chest and curled himself into the booth he sat in. His head whirled over to the voice.

With his stupid, smug grin, Shane rose his eyebrows at him, his hands crossed behind his back and looming over him. “Are you fucking insane? I could have punched you in the face!”

“I’m surprised you didn't,” Shane chuckled, “where are we going?”

“Kelsey scheduled an appointment to see a reception next Wednesday,” Ryan explained, his heart slowing down. He wouldn’t have put it past Shane to scare him, the joy he probably— it was enough for Ryan to kick his ass. 

“Fuck, I’ll be busy next Wednesday,” Shane frowned, the asshole was actually disappointed to _not_ go.

Was Ryan the only person who remembered they weren’t getting married here? “Niki asked me to stay and talk to her social worker, I could reschedule—”

“No, _no_ , I’ll send you pictures,” Ryan replied, “oh fuck, forget I said that. We’re _not_ getting married I’m not sending you pictures.”

“Please do,” Shane pleaded, “let’s go before it gets dark, I want to buy a few things for Mickie and Dori on the way home.”

Ryan lowered his voice, “they’re not our children, Ryan. No, we can’t have dogs in the house, Ryan. _No_ , Ryan they’re dogs not children we can’t spoil them.”

“Stop mocking me, Mickie lost her toy and I can’t _stand_ the sadness in her eyes,” Shane’s head hovered over Ryan's shoulder blade, a trait that he’s grown habit to doing.

Aside from opening doors for literally everyone, Shane liked his distance, though he loved to keep himself close to Ryan’s side. It was sweet, too cliché. “We’re heading out, Kelsey! Thanks for looking for receptions!”

“No worries!” Kelsey shouted, “don’t forget the scrapbook, Ryan! I labeled a section for Shane’s bachelor party!”

“Binder?” Shane’s eye glimmered in astonishment, “scrapbook? What scrapbook? Bachelor party? Good lord, all of these sound like _marvelous_ ideas.”

“Don’t encourage this!” Ryan took the scrapbook in his arms anyway.

In a swoop, Shane’s free hand, (the one that _wasn’t_ holding his waist) and snatched the binder from his grasp. He studied it with fascination, as if he were a kid at a candy store and beamed when he saw the decorative font of _Ryan and Shane Wedding 2018_ on the front.

“Don’t overthink it,” Ryan remarked over Shane gushing around the reception pictures. “We’re not getting married. What we’re doing is commiting fraud, we’re _scammers_.”

“Oh no,” Shane flipped to another page, his attention on the book, “how could we live with ourselves?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. Shane had his eyes centered on the scrapbook all the way home, he held it in one arm and intertwined his free hand with Ryan’s. The bag filled with dog toys between them.

Ryan's boyfriend was oddly intrigued, Kelsey did a magnificent job to catch his attention in a second and when Shane asked what he thought about the mix of blue and white, Ryan gave up.

“Why are you so interested?” He asked him, swinging their hands. August was fair on them, no longer _melting_ hot in the night-time as the day.

September was rolling in, autumn will start and Ryan would have the privilege to wear jackets again without sweating. “You’re encouraging them, not once have I heard you say that we’re not getting married.”

“We obviously aren’t,” Shane shrugged his shoulder, the book under his arm stirred. “You and I both know that they’re messing with us too. Maybe not Kelsey, this scrapbook is _well_ done and I would feel terrible to push these ideas away.”

“Yeah but why?” Ryan pressed, he made them pause in their walk. Close to their neighborhood, Ryan took in the sight of his boyfriend, “is this your way to ask for my hand in marriage?”

“Ryan,” Shane inclined his head, “we’re betrothed, we've been engaged since we met.”

“Then why? Do you like the idea of planning a wedding?”

Shane shrugged again, “maybe I do, don’t you think it’s fun? I mean a bachelor party? I never had—” realizing his slip-up, Shane cleared out his throat, “fuck. I never had a bachelor party. Technically, I never _been_ married.”

“You—” Ryan gaped, there was no way. This was a lie.

Centuries, a thousand and fifty years and he never got married once? Not ever? “And we talked about marriage  _a lot_ —”

“I’m comfortable with you,” Shane avowed, he removed his hands from Ryan’s, and brushed his fingers in Ryan’s hair.

“Being married to you has become an idea, sticking in the back of mind _constantly_. So seeing this,” Shane took the book and waved it around, “it made me happy a little bit. It’s like… I’m normal, we’re normal. Almost… it takes me back to when I _wanted_ to marry somebody.”

Ryan’s eyes softened, he never saw it like that.

Shane had the tendency to forget that he was human. He had people that he loved but nobody ever lived long enough with him. Even Matilda, the woman who had confessed to him moved on and had a daughter with another man.

“I’m happy that it makes you happy,” Ryan chuckled, “fuck, maybe you should come with us to the reception.”

Shane laughed, lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think the social worker would be happy about rescheduling, just send me pictures.”

Ryan would send him hundreds of pictures, “you mentioned that you wanted to marry somebody,” Ryan’s face lit up when Shane raked his hand through his scalp gently.

“I did before but not for the reasons you think,” Shane explained, “here,” he extended his hand again, “I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.”

Ryan took Shane’s larger hand in his, thin fingers slipped between his and he held his other hand on top of their intertwined hands.

“I don’t remember her name anymore. I remember that she was lovely, sweet woman,” Shane squeezed his hand then added, “keep in mind that back then, marriage wasn’t for _love_ , it was necessary to keep your family name alive, to gain _immortality_ , to extend your lineage. She was somebody important to my—my king, and she was said to rule by my side in order to have an heir.”

“A kingdom? You lived in a kingdom?”

“I ruled that kingdom,” Shane sighed, “the common folk loved me. I was their protector and she was my partner, she wanted to marry me.”

“Do you remember what happened to her?”

Shane’s face turned sour, his lips pursed and eyes dulled. “No,” he sternly replied, “that’s for another time, I suppose, maybe we should leave it for now." 

Progress, progress, that’s all that Ryan could think about.

Slowly, Shane was giving him bits and pieces of his past. Of the people he knew and who he was as a mortal. Ryan stopped him again, he felt bad for the look Shane gave him, one that shouted out that he was _afraid_ Ryan would call him out for stopping his story but instead, Ryan lifted himself to press a kiss on the side of Shane’s mouth.

“We’ll leave it for now,” Ryan whispered onto his jawbone, “I love you. Let’s go home and show our kids the binder their aunt made them. Maybe we could order take-out tonight.”

Shane gawked at him, the binder in one arm and the bag from the store in the other. A smile creeped its way into his face and he laughed, “I love you too, Ryan. Let's go home.”

 

* * *

 

Heading into work next Wednesday took a bit of motivation. As Ryan dressed himself to see the reception where their faux marriage would take place, Shane had to wake up early to meet with clients for the day. He dragged himself out of bed however, with the promise that Ryan would take pictures for him.

Through the morning, Shane was packed into meetings and clients that he didn't have time to check any messages that Ryan sent him. By the time Niki’s social worker rolled around, Shane gave himself time to rewind.

Her social worker was an older woman, a mother of three and often visited Niki’s house or workplace, reporting the positives of what it could do for the daughter they wanted to adopt. 

“Everytime she comes around, she makes me so nervous,” Niki uttered out, her back against Shane’s office door and loosened her collar to breathe. “It’s like I’m being graded for _working_.”

“No kidding,” Shane scrunched up his face, “I don’t know about you but I don’t typically have somebody by my side asking about my assistant for two hours.”

Niki exhaled, “thank you for tolerating all of this.”

“It’s important to you, plus, I’m on the road to being the best uncle I could possibly be.” 

“You really think we’d be able to adopt her?”

“Why wouldn’t you? If I can marry a non-magical mortal then you can adopt a daughter into your life,” Shane paused, “uh, forget the mortal part, sometimes witches live longer than others.”

“I was about to say,” Niki laughed, she stepped away from the office door and sat on the guest chairs by Shane’s desk, “as if you weren’t mortal. How’s the wedding going along?”

“We’re not getting married,” Shane beamed, “but it’s going _great_! Ryan’s out checking out this beautiful reception, I have yet to see pictures from him.”

“Oh! Check now! Now! I want to see!” Niki jumped in her seat, clapping her hands together. Laughing, Shane drew his phone from his jacket and turned it on, a fuzzy picture of Ryan appeared on screen and a text notification from him around nine in the morning saying _Im going now love you._

Dumbfounded with the void of messages, Shane bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. Wouldn’t there be more?

He checked the time on his phone, 3:32 P.M on his screen, down below the one message from Ryan. Opening their text messages didn't help, and it confirmed that Ryan texted him once and that was hours ago.

“What’s—”

A knock on Shane’s office door made them both whirl their heads towards it, “ _Niki!_ A client wants to speak with you! Line three!”

Niki turned her head from the closed office door to Shane and she gave him an apologetic smile, standing from her seat and told him that she wouldn’t be long.

That’s alright because Shane had nothing to show?

He would admit to himself that he felt guilty for missing out spending the day with Ryan and Kelsey, it escalated when Ryan hadn’t updated him. He might be busy, maybe they mistook the date and Ryan had forgotten to tell him? It could be a thousand things, a million things. 

They all swirled in his head, all the possible combinations of events that could have happened since nine in the morning. Though, what made his heart clench was the fact that Ryan’s life was still on a tenuous thread, and Kelsey, the person he was with wouldn’t be aware of it and caught in the crossfire.

Without a second thought, Shane dialed Ryan’s phone, straight into voicemail with the generic woman’s voice telling him that the phone he’s trying to reach was unavailable. Calling Kelsey was next, at that point, his hands were sweaty and he was struggling to breathe. If anything happened to Ryan while he was away—

“Hey Shane! What’s up!”

“Kelsey?” She sounded normal, “everything went okay?”

“Oh yeah!” She laughed, he heard a few other voices in the background with Kelsey replying to them, “it was beautiful Shane, Ryan would tell you all about it!” The voices started again, a chorus of laughter followed later, there was no doubt that she couldn't have just arrived back at Tasty, she’s been there for hours.

“You don’t know where Ryan is?”

“Uh,” Kelsey hesitated, “no, we left separately. I didn't ask where he was going after, I assumed directly to you.”

“When was that Kelsey?”

“Hours ago? Around noon, maybe?” Shane pressed his phone to his forehead, he closed his eyes and drew in a long breath.

Ryan’s fine, he’s on his way home, he’s alright. Still, it didn't stop him from feeling remorseful towards Kelsey for leaving him alone, “is everything okay, Shane?”

“Yeah,” he answered, already packing up his paperwork. He closed folders and sent them aside for later, “don’t worry about it. I know where he is, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Kelsey said her goodbyes to him, hung up the second Shane pivoted to his office door, flinging it open. 

He almost ran into somebody though, the startled gasp he heard made him look down and to the eyes of the person he was worried about. Shane let out the breath he was holding and leant down to embrace the shit out of Ryan.

Ryan _laughed_ at him, “whoa, alright! Hey, big guy, I brought you something.”

Shane pulled him away, his eyes observed him. He wore one of Shane’s old t-shirts, the jacket he had discarded over his shoulder and his mother’s scarf shown through the zips of his backpack. No sign of injury, no scratch or bruise in sight, Ryan’s eyes twinkled with happiness.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I thought—” Shane grabbed onto Ryan’s shirt ( _his_ shirt) and pulled him into his office, making sure he’s inside before closing the door. “I thought something happened to you. Kelsey didn't know where you were and you didn't answer my call—”

“My phone died. I took… lots of pictures, too many to send to you through text,” Ryan reassured bluntly, “hey, hey it’s okay. I’m fine, right? I can take care of myself, Shane.”

“I’ll worry about you for a long time, baby,” Shane sighed again, his heart finally beating in sync with Ryan’s, “I’m glad you’re okay, I was _this_ close from running out to find you myself.”

“That’s sweet,” Ryan grinned, “here, this would make you feel better,” he exposed a small photo album, purple in color and filled halfway with what Shane could assume is photographs.

Suspicions arose, and Shane guessed that he was about see the pictures Ryan took. “I went to get them developed, my phone died after. I know you wanted to be there so I got you these for you to see them instead of text bubbles.”

“I love the physical copies,” Shane muttered, fingers ran through the different pages, similar to the scrapbook Kelsey made them. He was looking at pictures of the reception area, _pictures_ that Ryan took himself. All arranged in their flaps, the morning sun the only light that Ryan had. “I love this.”

“I know you do—"

And maybe, Shane loved Ryan a little bit more. He held the photo album in his hand and the other went around Ryan, he pressed him close to him. He turned his gaze to him and set the photo album on his desk.

The question to kiss was unheard, because before they both knew it, they connected their lips. A short-lived thought about pressing Ryan to the wall crossed Shane's mind, but all he could do was cradle the back of Ryan's head with his hand.

They moved together passionately, as if they  _weren't_ in Shane's work office but at home. Their pace was gruelingly slow, and when Shane pulled away to breathe, Ryan smacked his lips together to smile. 

Fuck.

If he wasn't this attractive—

Shane dove in for another one, deeper and parted Ryan's lips with his tongue. His hand rested on Ryan's face while the other had a mind of it's own, traveling to Ryan's collarbones to his belt-line. Shane had to open his eyes to see if he had locked the door, and caught a handful of a blissful Ryan in front of him. 

To... mess with him, Shane rolled his hip to Ryan's side and watched as his eyes crinkled shut, moaning into the kiss. Shane did it again before Ryan's had enough of his squirming and pressed him to his own desk. Forcing Shane to close his eyes and hold his hand on the wooden desk to steady himself. 

Nobody would need him for the next hour and a half right?

Melting in their kiss, Ryan was the one to pull away with an exhale. He laughed, and Shane's eyes blinked to see him. 

The worry faded away, that separation anxiety he had when it came to Ryan’s life dissipated when Ryan _was_ in front of him, wearing _his_ shirt no less. He could no longer say what he would have done if Ryan was miles away from him, lifeless or lost somewhere that Shane couldn’t reach him.

“Don’t be scared, Shane,” Ryan consoled, kissing what he could reach, “I’m okay.”

He’s right. He was okay.

(And maybe, Shane took off Ryan's ( _his_ ) shirt off a few minutes later.)

 

* * *

 

Ryan would rarely enter a bar until he met Shane. He never could relate to ‘sneaking out behind your parents back to a club and drink under the age of eighteen’ or _had_ friends to drag him to a bar in the middle of the night.

Jen and Maycie avoided bars and pubs like the plague. They had a secret vendetta towards said establishments that Ryan wasn’t allowed to know about.

Since Shane had introduced him to the glory of bars and drinking responsibility (somewhat), Ryan found himself in bars often. If it wasn’t a night out with Shane, it was with Kelsey or TJ. In the last few months, Kelsey had dragged him to a bar near downtown L.A—horrible, one of the worst experiences of his _life_ and his night worsened when Shane invited himself and rented a limousine for the three of them.

Despite the trauma of humiliation Ryan endured and the hungover that followed, he liked to spend time with his friends and drink. So, it was no surprise that his first order of business as a pretend-engaged man was to make sure Jen knew how to take a shot.

“I’m not doing this,” Maycie protested, her soft voice drowned out by the hoards of people around them, their booming laughter and conversations echoed in the room and Ryan smiled when she pulled herself closer to Jen. Jen, who hadn’t stopped downing said shots, “for— _stop!_ Don’t drink so much! You’ll get sick.” 

Jen smacked her lips and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, “relax, we can’t die from alcohol poisoning. Do it for the groom,” Jen pointed at him, “he’s going to get married and we’re going to have a toast at his wedding.”

“No,” Ryan shook his head, his smile hadn’t faded from his face and widened when Jen filled another shot for herself, “that’s not happening.”

“Hey! You were the one opened to the idea of a human and deity marriage in the first place,” Jen waved her shot glass, “commit to your man.”

She downed the shot in one go and Maycie cringed for her, raised her hands to somehow get her friend to stop drinking like she was in the middle of a battlefield.

“That was two years ago,” Ryan argued, “things change,”

He knew Jen had one too many shots and takes the tequila bottle from her. Jen slurred a _hey!_ And reached for it but he’s too far for her to catch, “we didn't come here to drink away, I’m testing something.”

“We’re experiments now?” Jen teased, “funny, first order of business, do we get paid?”

“You’re ghosts, you don’t need money.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Maycie put forth, “I had been looking at clothes recently with Daysha, I believe that it’s time I got out of these rags I have on.” Maycie looked at herself, the clothes on her a size bigger, draped around her transparent self like a sheet.

“Why don’t you just take them?” Ryan asked, “Daysha has a closet now, you can afford to have new clothing.”

“I don’t want to steal,” Maycie replied, her eyes ducked to her bare feet.

He understood, Jen was weary about stealing until Shane came along and encouraged her that if she _were_ to steal, might as well steal from the rich. That’s how they got Jen in expensive brand clothing.

“I’ll ask Shane to help you out,” Ryan suggested, he poured himself a shot and Jen glared at him. “He knows this neat little store that he could take you to, he’ll pay.”

“Oh _no_ that’s not—”

“It doesn’t matter if you refuse,” Ryan narrowed his eyes behind both Jen and Maycie, scanning the sight of a familiar man and he drank his shot. Unlike Jen, he _did_ wrinkle his nose and stuck his tongue out in disgust, “Shane would do it with the kindness of his heart—listen, TJ is coming right this way and I want the both of you on your best behavior—hey!”

“Bergara?” TJ laughed, “well, I’ll be, what the hell are you doing here?”

TJ stood tall, he hovered over Jen and Maycie and he turned his attention to them. Ryan didn't have time to react when TJ smiled at them, “and with… two gorgeous gals. How’s it going?”

“I have friends outside of work, TJ.”

“By the looks of it I can see that you’re not a liar,” Jen let out a guffaw, catching the attention of both TJ and Ryan. Her smile slipped when she realized that she could be heard. “Interesting friends, they’re just as lovely as Shane is.”

“Don’t compare us to him,” Jen advised, “he’s on a higher level, top tier.”

Best behavior, he said. 

“Don’t boost his ego,” TJ added, “Ryan has to deal with it everyday.”

_Oh good, thanks,_  Ryan thought. Because if he knew his boyfriend well, Shane would instantly know when somebody is thinking about him or complimenting him.

Jen and Maycie did well, their bickering subsided when TJ spoke with them. They felt comfortable speaking in a public place with Ryan, might as well expand on their short group of friends? Kelsey would love them, Steven would know that they weren't alive but he would still invite them for dinner.

However, Ryan wanted to know if they could fend in public on their own. Now that they physically had no control of looking the part of apparitions, Ryan couldn’t hide them from their physical forms as humans. They weren’t entirely there yet, the low-dim lighting in bars would mask their invisible faces anyway.

Ryan excused himself an hour into their talk, he acted as if he were going to the restroom but took a turn when he heard Jen’s laugh. He did have work left to do… he could call in a few hours before going home.

After calling somebody to take him to his job, he snuck through the employee entrance. He greeted those who were calling it for the night and others who had begun their night shift. Ryan took his laptop, his printed papers, a few pens and walked to the lounge.

With every other job he’s had, Ryan found out that music helped with whatever he wanted done. It had been sweeping a restaurant, selling skis or doing research for the sake of his assigned authors, music always helped him get things _done_. Researching old cases were his favorite, he had done a lot of convincing to keep in touch with a specific forensic author to keep himself buried in crime cases.

Those that never had been solved weren’t his forte, they made him incredibly sad, made Shane sadder when he read a few to him. Still, it helped pass the time.

Around a quarter to ten, Ryan received a text. He had ignored his phone for hours, TJ had texted him where he _was_ , then blasted his phone with emojis (he was convinced that it was Jen who did it; whatever, they were _fine_  with TJ.) Shrugging off the sound of a _ding_ , Ryan continued to work. 

He must have cracked his knuckles when he felt his phone vibrate on the coffee next to him. He was in a comfortable spot, his legs stretched in front of him, laptop on his thighs, a pillow behind him to please his strained back, and his phone rang by the artificial candle and a set of paperwork. 

Ryan watched it ring and it grew silent, the notification of _Shane—_ _missed call (1)_ lit up on his phone and he panicked. He shoved his laptop away and sat up, he must have miscalculated that his earphones were still connected to said computer and around his head because he fell.

When he composed himself, he exhaled and the candle beside him flickered, disappearing into a wisp of smoke as Ryan called the number back. It rang for two seconds before he heard Shane’s voice on the other side. “Hello?"

“Hi—hey!” Ryan—a mess—replied, “how’s it going?”

“Why do you sound like you’re out of breath?” Shane chuckled, a light-hearted laugh that stabbed Ryan through the heart. “Have you been working out?”

“No, I—” fell _,_ “uh, yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Just checking on you, I texted to ask what you wanted for dinner but—” it was like he was close by, Ryan stood on his feet and massaged the back of his neck, “Jen called me on TJ’s phone. She screamed out a lung because you left them alone.”

“I’m surprised they noticed, really,” Ryan laughed, “it worked. They got along well, Maycie’s shown interest in new clothing.”

“Oh! Has she now!” Shane hollered, his voice boomed over the receiver a bit too loudly and Ryan took it away from his ear for a second, “that’s great! I’d love to show her the world of fashion.”

“If anybody can do it it’s you,” Ryan taunted, he pressed the speaker button on his phone and set it down. Shane calling him also was a sign of dinner time or _time to go home_. He gathered his papers, closed his laptop, and organized all of his belongings inside his backpack. Strangely, Shane was silent as he did.

“Shane?” 

“Hmm? Yeah?”

“Why are you so quiet?” Ryan’s eyebrows drew together, and Shane snorted. 

“No reason. Do you want to go out on a date with me instead of eating in?” Ryan stilled, oh my, god. It’s not like this is the first time they’re going on a fucking date, why was Ryan always affected? “We could watch a movie or something, sleep early because we have work tomorrow.” 

Ryan cleared out his throat, straightened himself up and looked at the phone, “Sounds good,” Ryan said with a smile, trying to sound like he wasn't jolted by anticipation on the other side. “Just a moment, I’ll be home in five.” 

“That’s great baby,” Shane’s voice spoke through the speaker, “I’m not home.” 

Ryan took his backpack, swung it over his shoulder and then grabbed his phone, “where are you?”

He swung the door of the lounge, funny, it was ajar and stopped when he saw red pants on the other side. With his phone pressed to his ear, Ryan lifted an eyebrow at the person he was currently on the phone with staring at him with a smile in person. “Oh _fuck_ you.”

“Eh, maybe,” Shane leaned on the wall, “hey.” 

“Stop with the—” Ryan hung up the phone, “what the hell? How long have you been there?”

“You summoned me _,_ ” Shane demanded, offended that Ryan didn't realize, “I was sitting at home and now I was here, what do you expect?” Ryan knew Shane wasn’t lying, he was wearing a thin sweater, the burgundy, red pants that he loved to wear from this morning.

“Summon—” the candle, _you idiot_ , “ah,” Ryan turned his head over his shoulder and saw the candle he unknowingly extinguished. “Good, I’m glad it still works.”

He walked past a smug Shane, he felt his eyes bore into him as he followed.

“You looked so happy when I asked you out.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

“I know that you had fallen when you called me, you were on the floor.”

“ _Shane_.”

 

* * *

 

Alarms weren’t allowed in the Bergara-Madej household. After hours of deliberation, Shane chose that he would ban them from _ever_ waking him up. A deity like him doesn’t deserve a rude awakening, if Ryan wanted to wake him up, he’d have literally climb on him. 

“You’re not as light as you think you are,” Shane gasped, Ryan straddling his stomach, “please. We’re going to be late.”

“You’re worried about this now, what happened to that _when_ I was late yesterday?” Ryan ridiculed with a wink, he found it funny to crush Shane this early with his weight from his _thighs_ alone. It was when Ryan decided to act as if he was limp that Shane groaned out loud.

“You can’t do this, I’m a supernatural being!” Shane shouted when Ryan pressed his icy hands on his bare chest, “have mercy on me, please baby, Niki’s expecting me in thirty.” He said all of this, though on his own, he didn't bother to push Ryan off of him.

Because even Ryan has his limits, his muscular thigh moved and swung Shane’s stomach. Powerless, Shane let his boyfriend-fiancé-lover to fall to his side. Still holding him still with his legs, Ryan kissed Shane’s shoulder. Shane rolled his eyes, maybe he could spare a few minutes.

He met up with Niki an hour late, he ran into his office to see her in his chair, spun herself in circle.

“Oh wow, look at you, you’re radiating!” Niki laughed, “did Ryan stop you from leaving?”

“It was revenge for yesterday morning,” Shane fixed his hair, he had no time to comb through it—he had to shove on a pair of pants and a button down shirt that Ryan didn't steal from him—he ran his fingers through the strands and wished for the best. “He’s stronger than me, both mentally and physically.”

That was true, except last time Ryan had been pinned down by Shane himself, woke him up with kisses and tickling him. He refused to let him go and would kiss Ryan’s scrunched up nose when Shane pressed him down with his weight. Having Ryan on him was a blessing that he didn't deserve.

“I’m going to take advantage of you’re happy mood and show you something,” Niki jumped from his chair and bounced to him, she poked his side with whatever she was holding. Looking down, he noticed that it was a certificate, upon reading the words _congratulations, Mrs. Niki—_ he _knew_ exactly what it meant. 

“She’s yours?”

“She’s all mine!” Niki cheered, Shane laughed along and embraced her, she wrapped her arms around him as he rocked them back and forth. “After all those _hours_ of social worker visits, she’s my daughter!”

“Niki, that’s fantastic! I’m—we—” Shane stopped to breathe, he smiled at Niki anyway and asked: “when is she moving in? When can I meet her?”

“Soon, Shane! Soon,” Niki chuckled, her cheeks glowed with happiness, she couldn’t stop smiling even if she tried to. She worked harder than anybody he’s ever met to adopt a child she and her wife loved, woke up in the crack of dawn everyday to spend time with the woman who would decide said child’s future.

“We have to go shopping,” Shane mulled, he ran a hand over his stubble, “she needs—  _clothes_ , Niki, I’m going to buy her an entire bedroom set, you’ll see.” 

“Wait—what—” Niki set down her certificate and took her purse, “ _now_?”

“Yeah,” Shane rubbed his hands together, “now. A vacation is due for you, right?”

“What about—”

“I'm the boss remember?” Shane proudly stated.

For a moment he wondered (if he were to teleport Niki like he had done for Ryan and Steven,) how Niki wouldn’t react as dreadfully he hoped, but witchcraft couldn’t explain _why_ he could teleport through space in the first place.

“Fine,” Niki gave in, “you’re not buying her a bedroom set, Shane.”

(He was, she couldn’t stop him.)

He didn't get to buy Niki’s daughter a bedroom set, but he had the courtesy of digging through racks of children’s shirts, pants and dresses. Adrenaline and happiness ran through his veins, pumping him up with excitement meeting Niki’s daughter.

Children of his own was something he was robbed from having. Steven was a child when he adopted him into his life, born from another family. He never had the chance to have a child when he was human.

Even now, there was impossible to have a child of his own blood but Ryan could. Someday, when he and Ryan are ready, they’ll adopt too, maybe a child from a surrogate? The child would biologically look like Ryan and Shane would love them with all he had.

“What about this?” Shane turned his head, Niki held a yellow sundress in her hand, the height of a nine-year old girl, “she wore dresses when we visited her, she loves them so much.”

“She’ll love it,” Shane cooed, “it’s absolutely adorable, do they make all their clothes this small? Look!” He picked up a pair of booties, roughly the same size of the palm of his hand, “that’s so cute.”

“I know!” Niki’s eyes softened at the pair of boots, “maybe I’ll have a baby next time.”

Shane smiled, a baby in his arms would actually deem him a giant for sure. To protect a life that wasn’t his own, but a _child_ , _his_ child. It was too much to think about.

Carrying bags of shopping bags, Shane walked out of the children’s store he used to buy Steven’s clothes at. Niki walked beside him, inspecting the dolls she bought, Shane wanted to comment about it when something caught his eye.

Could it have been the fact that he felt happy for Niki at the time or that the beautiful gem hit the light perfectly, Shane wandered towards the jewelry store.

Cases circulated through the store, filled with homemade and expensive jewels, all of them labeled in their own places. Shane’s legs took him to the rings automatically, all of them silver, gold or white, a diamond set in the middle or bands, engraved with words of love or the customer’s choice.

“You interested?” Niki said, she stood beside him and smiled softly, “shopping for my ring was Gabi's favorite thing to do when we were engaged.” 

“I don’t know,” Shane answered, turning back to the bands, “I never stepped foot in a jewelry store.”

_I never considered getting married_ , _I never thought about buying them a ring and spend my life with them._  

His eyes observed each band individually, all of them in different sizes and he saw one, the size of Ryan’s ring finger.

“He would love that one,” he pointed on the glass, “he likes to be subtle, but it looks to have a loose fit that he could play around with.”

“You seem to know a lot about rings for a guy who never been to a jewelry store,” Niki teased him, “hey,” her hand fell to his forearm and she squeezed it, “you don’t need to get married to show that you love somebody. Everybody goes at their own pace. Take it slow, step one, a promise ring?” 

“A promise—” Shane looked at the ring, a luxurious ebony stripe with silver teeny diamonds surrounding it or a ring that he himself would engrave, what would it say? He didn't know, he couldn’t stop himself from calling the employee over. “Can I see this one, please?”

 

* * *

 

Hiding the ring goes unnoticed by his boyfriend. Shane stepped into their apartment after he walked Niki to her house, Mickie and Dori ran to him the second he did, pawing at his legs and barking happily. As they were telling Shane what they learned while he was gone, shaking their tail and sitting up, Ryan followed behind to greet him. 

“Hey, big guy,” he beamed, walking to him with confidence in every step of his, Ryan reached for him and kissed the side of his jaw as he was still holding the shopping bags and Mickie was seconds away from climbing on his leg. “Do you need help?”

“It’s for you anyway,” Shane jerked his arm carrying said bag, “let’s sit on the couch, so you can open it.”

“Did—  _you_ bought something? I thought you were at _work_?”

Shane smiled at him, picking up Mickie and dragged Ryan to the living room. He tried to push down any nerves he had, Ryan’s intrigued grin relaxed him and he begun opening it on his own. Stopping halfway, Ryan looked up, “oh shit, wait a minute, it’s a ring isn’t it?”

Way to spoil the surprise, Bergara.

“I’m not on one knee am I?” Shane raised his eyebrow, Mickie nibbled his neck with a wet snort, “open it baby.”

“Come here, sit next to me. I don’t trust you.”

Shane rolled his eyes and playfully whined, he made his way to the other side of the couch and sat down, “ _open_ it.”

“If you go down on one knee, Shane,” Ryan warned as he opened the box, “I’ll seriously—”

His hands froze when he opened the box, he stared at the contents inside. If Shane could remember correctly, he wanted the ring to be the centerpiece. Stuck out in a white pillow were two matches of rings, one for Ryan and the other for Shane.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” Shane explained, Mickie on his lap climbing on him with vigor, he tried to move his head as he continued to talk, “it’s a promise ring, one for me and the other is yours. I wanted to match them because why not?”

He leaned closer to Ryan’s side, moving his head to see what Ryan had opened.

“That one’s yours,” Shane pointed to Ryan’s band, “pick it out myself, I wanted to engrave it myself but I’m terrible with words and I thought you’d love it the way it—” 

In a swift move, Ryan stuck out his own band from the pillow, pinching it with his thumb and index finger. He took in the sight of the ring before extending his hand to Shane, “would you do the honors and help me put it on? It’s the least you can do.”

_It’s not a proposal, it’s not a proposal_ , Shane reminded himself, taking the band from Ryan’s hand and offered his right hand to him.

“It’s a bit too much to have it on your left hand,” Shane aligned the band on Ryan’s ring finger, making sure it slid perfectly through his finger. “Oh shit it _fits_ , I’m a genius.”

Ryan didn't look at him, he smiled at the ring, “yeah, you are.”

Shane snorted, “now you can’t say that you _don’t_ have a ring, Kelsey can do all the wedding planning that she wants.”

“It’s not on my left hand,” Ryan pointed out, flexing his hand to test the new accessory on his finger, “doesn’t count!”

A light switch flickered on inside of Shane’s mind, while Ryan admired his ring, he took his own and shoved it on his ring finger. _On his left hand_.

“See,” he wiggled his fingers, the cool, unfamiliar feel of a ring on his finger made him… giddy. Aside from testing the ring back at the jewelry store, it was _official_ now and he didn't want to take it off. “I have it on my left,” he yanked his hand away when Ryan reached for it, “it counts.”

Wow, Shane understood why Ryan took his time admiring the ring, it felt _amazing._  

All those years dodging the concept of marriage and rings around fingers, he never had an idea of what he was missing. The ring was part of it, the meaning behind the ring and the love he has for somebody _wearing_ a matching ring was new. In all his years of life, Shane actually felt like he had a reason to live.

“I love it Shane, thank you,” Ryan placed the velvet box on the coffee table, “I wouldn’t have guessed you were a romantic.”

_Me either_. “Only with you, baby,” he taunted, he balled his left hand, the ring flexed against his knuckle. “It’s all new to me, too.”

“I know you mentioned that you never… married,” Ryan said softly, he turned his body to face Shane’s, “something tells me that the woman you knew? I know you wanted to marry her, why didn't you?” 

Shane pressed his lips together, his eyes averted from the ring on his finger to his boyfriend. Patience, was how Shane would describe Ryan’s body language. Whenever he listened to what Shane had to say, he never took his eyes off of him. If… Shane told him the truth he wouldn’t judge him. 

No doubt that Ryan had seen him in those visions of his, those dreams he talked about drew memories from the back of Shane’s brain, ones that he had pushed to the furthest of the depths of his mind.

Not once did Ryan cower away in fear at him, not once did Ryan sit him down and called him a murderer. Not once did Ryan run out of patience with him.

“I—” Shane’s jaw went slack, the words he wanted to say escaped him as he opened his mouth. His story was in his head, and explaining it into coherent sentences was the hardest part. “I was born in Poland before it was Poland. At the time— illness and war divided humanity and my father had died in the battlefield.”

“My mother—” Shane pursed his lips, “my mother—she worked hard to migrate us to a village outside of Poland. I grew up there, and when I was of age, I became an apprentice to a fellow knight. Ryan, you should have seen me,” Shane mirthlessly laughed, “I was the worst in my group, lanky and clumsy at best.”

Ryan’s mouth curled into a smile, his arm fell to the back of the couch and reached for Shane’s hair. He didn't say a word, his fingers played with a few strands of Shane’s short hair.

“I grew and I was knighted, I was their captain— a leader,” Shane’s eyes locked with Ryan’s, “I led them into battle. I was... in charge for troops of an army that served my king. And I’ve killed people to extend land, I’ve lost soldiers and by the end of my life, I was crowned a lord to the village.”

“I wanted to rule,” Shane sighed, memories of his adolescent life flickered through his eyes.

He saw himself with his mother by his side, scolding adults who’d betray him, stabbing them if they crossed him or his future bride. Drinking beer with Adam, the happiest he’s ever been if he wasn’t ordered to go into war to kill innocent teenagers— _people_ would could have lived a fuller life than bloodshed.

“It was all I dreamt about at the time, marrying a woman would have sealed the kingdom to me,” Shane licked his lips, “I gathered a rebellion and I never succeeded.”

His hand raised to his chest, “my king killed my mother, my people turned their backs on me, and she— I never knew what had happened to the woman who wanted to marry me. My king killed me before—” 

Ryan’s eyes never left his, he took in all of this with a relaxed demeanor.

Suddenly his stance grew tense and he straightened on the couch, the hand that had been messing with Shane’s hair moved, not away but to Shane’s cheek. Before Shane knew it, Ryan was half on his lap cradling his face, wiping his thumb on the apple of his cheekbone. Had he been in tears?

“Don’t cry,” Ryan whispered, “don’t cry.”

“It’s kind of hard not to,” Shane whimpered, “it’s—” he swallowed thickly, his arms limply winded around Ryan’s back as he exploded in tears.

Bawling into his shoulder. The pain he felt from his mother’s death, his bride's life cut short or in agony, his _people_ the ones who loved him and called for him. The people he killed. It all fell into him at once and he was holding onto the only human who knew why he was in tears.

“I love you, Ryan,” he muttered over his sobs, “I love you so much. I didn't—I didn't want to tell you because it’d change _everything_. Swear to me that you’ll never forget what I have told you tonight.”

“How could I forget? This doesn’t change anything, Shane.”

Shane pulled himself away, “you’re the only one who knows, baby—who else would tell the legendary story of the almighty deity Shane Madej?”

Ryan let out a chuckle, “you’ll always be more than a deity to me, Shane Madej,” he said, his fingers brushed over his jaw.

He closed his mouth, whether or not Ryan had run out of things to say, Shane didn't know. Shane didn't need words anymore, the love in Ryan’s eyes told him everything. He forgave him, he loved him unconditionally. That—Shane was more than a deity, more than Ryan Bergara’s betrothed.

He was human.

 

* * *

 

A month later, Shane Madej drove to work. Well, Ryan drove to work, Shane went along for the ride.

He tried to figure out the mechanics of the car, he hadn’t thought of driving one since the 1920s, (at the time, stop signs and lights weren’t a thing, and he'd go over the speed limit without a second thought.) And now that they were practically automatic human transporters, he had to learn _how_ to drive properly.  

Ryan was a fast learner, he drove with skill that Shane couldn’t ever demonstrate without stepping on the brake every two minutes. Shane practiced with Ryan on the passenger seat, and _maybe_ he would ignore the way Ryan would hold onto the dashboard for dear life. And after a while, Shane graduated from Ryan on the passenger seat to _no_ Ryan at all. 

Driving to work was an adventure, traffic at six in the morning was part of the experience.

Shane still enjoyed the speciality of teleportation, but it had become rare to him and Ryan. For the past month and a half, Shane occupied himself to settle into a human’s life the _way_ it should be.

And it… it was actually fun. Doing the dishes with Ryan at the end of the day, driving to work and stuck in traffic for an hour, and—  _and!_ Earning _real_ money on his own to pay his bills. Living domestically was astounding.

Sometimes his status couldn’t be avoided. He had called in sick a few times because of the blade or when he’ll be pressed on time and teleported himself to where he needed to be. Either way, he was learning to blend in.

Time was weary in October. Shane kept an eye opened at all times just in case, but now that Ryan had known the truth and _loved_ him, he felt as if he could finally sleep through the night, holding the person he loved the most.

Kelsey panicked when she saw the rings first, Steven broke down in tears when he did. Shane told them they _weren’t_ engaged.

(They didn't listen to him.) 

Shane spent more time with people he grew to enjoy, Jen, Maycie and Daysha became his ‘afternoon gals,’ following him around and gossiped around him. It wasn’t bad, who knew that dead people actually had things to say?

Kelsey pestered him a lot, after she toned it down a bit over wedding planning, she found new hobbies they liked to do. Steven… was Steven, he traveled and called him, so opening up to his nephew like he had with Ryan was easier.

And _maybe_ Shane cried again when Steven hugged him and told him that he still loved him. To save unnecessary hurt in Steven’s life, he didn't mention the curse to him, though Steven was smart and he would have a faint clue that it did play an enormous part in his life.

By November, Ryan was doing better at work, now as he was in charge of publishing his _own_ articles and collaborated with a forensic investigator to research cases that never had been solved. Ryan claimed that his goal wasn’t to solve them as most of said cases were _years_ old, but he couldn’t push back the attention these cases had gotten only by his words.

He never gave himself credit for the hard work he had done on a daily basis.

Thankfully, Shane was there to remind him of the work he’s done and how he _earned_ it all in promotion. 

Accidents were nonexistent, Shane went on for days without a ‘sick’ day. They bickered, talked, and loved each other. Like it always should have been. Like it should have been for—for _years_. 

But Fate kept her role in their lives and she wasn’t afraid to step in if need be.

 

* * *

 

Ryan’s birthday was next week. And he had _no_ idea what he wanted to do.

A party to celebrate twenty-eight years of life would only result in calamity—not only to throw him into a existential crisis thinking about the future but also Kelsey would carry in a cooler filled with alcohol. He didn't have control over the party she planned for him this Saturday, still, he wanted to celebrate on the day of his birthday. 

Partying was out of the question. A dinner, maybe—

“What has you thinking too hard? You’re eyes are going to pop out of your skull.”

“That’s graphic,” Ryan fell into a fit of laughter, “I was thinking about my birthday.”

TJ snorted, he tilted his head and have him a scolding look, “it’s not for another week, man. Do you like to plan ahead? Isn’t Kelsey throwing you a big birthday bash?”

“Yes,” he shivered at the thought of his hangover already, “I wanted to celebrate the day _of_.” 

“I see,” TJ snapped his fingers, “here’s an idea! Go through these articles for proofreading and then we’ll talk about it, old man,” TJ tossed a folder of printed pages on Ryan’s desk.

Ryan frowned, “have pity on me, my arthritis is acting up,” he held his hand, “soon I wouldn’t be able to type with my beautiful fingers.”

“You can always use your voice,” TJ countered, shrugging jokingly, “always works with podcast shows or whatever.”

He waved his hand dismissively, no sign of seriousness in his words. If Ryan knew better he’ll yawn right in front of him too. TJ been out of the loop this week, Ryan followed behind.

Apart from the miserable ‘publishing day’ they had recently, TJ hooked Ryan up with _great_ business opportunities. Far from a promotion, he’d been nominated for an internship next summer in San Francisco and had somehow convinced one of the authors covering cold cases to work with him exclusively.

It’s all music to Ryan’s ears, all until he realized all the hard work he’s been chosen to do. TJ was his favorite (Shane’s words) and he had him on a leash from day one. Plus, he had beautiful blue eyes and Shane couldn’t rival with.

(Also Shane’s words.)

“I don’t think my voice would be of any use,” Ryan’s hand went to his throat, he rubbed his fingers over his adam’s apple, “I would bore them to death if I started a podcast.”

“Hm,” TJ wrinkled his nose at him, “you pronounce words incorrectly, I believe that it’s—” he trailed off, eyebrows knitting and he stood from the side of Ryan’s desk. “Hey, isn’t that the girl you were with weeks ago?”

Ryan whirled his head over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the sight of a human woman wandering around his workplace.

Dazedly reaching for objects around the room and waving her hands around in the air. She walked past baffled employees, some of them paused in their work and tried to speak to her. She ignored all and pivoted over to Ryan’s desk.

It was then when he realized the woman’s body was one-hundred percent _human_. No transparency in sight, their form materialized and feet grounded on the carpet. By the looks of it, Jen looked as terrified as Ryan did.

“Can—can I speak with you in private?” Jen’s voice was shaken, a higher octave than the one she had always used. Even her voice had Ryan stunned on the spot, he couldn’t deny her request to her and he stood from his chair.

“Give me a second, TJ,” Ryan said, taking Jen’s wrist in his hand and _wow_ , it’s real.

He’s never seen Jen this way before. She’s appeared before him many times, before human beings and others alike. She’s been able to sit in chairs no problem, walk around if she _really_ wanted to. But this—

He’s touching human skin.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?”

“You tell me!” Jen blurted out, though hushed as they were locked in the lounge with other employees working on their laptops.

“You feel it too right?” She pinched the skin on her forearm, “that fucking hurts me Ryan, I have _skin_!”

“Jen keep it down, I—I can see it,” Ryan reassured, “what happened?” 

“I woke up from— fuck,” Jen, exasperated, dragged her feet across the room with her hand on her chin. “I don’t _know_ I just woke up and somebody out of nowhere asked for my help. I could—I could feel my feet on the concrete.”

“I don’t understand—” 

“I could feel everything around me,” Jen continued, she bit her finger lightly, aligned teeth nibbled on her skin. Ryan found it morbid that he watched his friend do this in the middle of the lounge at his _job_ , though, Jen continued to poke and probe her face.

“Everything I can feel it. I can touch,” she stopped her strange mannerisms and took a step over to Ryan. 

Jen swung an arm around his tight shoulders, the weight of her arm alarmed him and he jumped.

“Aha!” She laughed, “I can feel that too. Wow, you’re warmer than I thought.”

Strangely, she was warm, too.

Whenever she appeared before him, she’d greet him with a breeze of cold air, something that announced her entrance. Ryan always associated that with Shane’s own unique entrances, but Jen, she was cold to the bone.

“Are—are you _human_?” Ryan whispered the last part, “can you control this? Can you make this stop?”

“Why would I?” Jen replied, she removed her arm around him, “I didn't do this. I don’t know how I’m doing this,” she smiled, “either way, I feel like I’m about to cry—oh, there it is, I’m _crying_.”

She was, her tears fell over her cheeks effortlessly like Ryan’s would, water ran over her non-transparent skin. 

“Holy fuck,” was all Ryan could come out with, Jen sobbed before chuckling. “Holy fuck, you’re straight up a human being. We have to—” Call Shane? What would Shane do? How could he fix this?

If she had been a ghost, dead and void to the world around her, would the only solution be to kill her again? The thought of Jen losing the ability to be a human _again_ sent shivers down his back.

“I—” He swallowed, Jen was still crying beside him, she looked at him with saddened eyes. She wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her jacket, her skin red from flushed cheeks and the scratchy side of her sleeve. It was getting too real for him at this point, he was literally looking at a human. 

Blood in their veins, a heart beating—a heart. “Jen, do me a favor and find a _pulse_ , on your wrist or your heart.”

Jen raised her trembling hand over her chest, she fiddled with her shirt for a second before reaching under her shirt and touch bare skin. Between them, they spoke with their eyes, Jen didn't say a word for a minute before her eyes swam with tears again. She exhaled, letting out a shaky breath and a nervous giggle.

“I feel my heartbeat,” she confessed to him, laughing to herself over her hand, “oh my _god_ , I can feel my heartbeat. Ryan—I forgot how exhilarating it gets when you're nervous, literally beating faster than anything I—oh my god.”

It was nothing like he’d ever seen before and he _knew_ , he knew that this wasn’t normal. His first thought as he saw Jen breakdown over her pulse was to indeed call Shane. But the look in Jen’s eyes stopped him from moving. This girl, his best friend for over a decade was alive again.

Given another chance at the life that was cut short when she died of pneumonia because she refused to leave Ryan out in the cold by himself. She could finally _live_ her life in the open, no longer hiding in storage rooms or in the farthest booth. Ryan did what Ryan knew best to do.

Ignore it and let them her happy for a while longer.

He underestimated how long it would be before it came to bite him in the ass.

 

* * *

 

On the morning of his twenty-eighth birthday, Ryan was awakened by the subtle touch of lips on his forehead. His eyes heavy from sleep blinked and heard shoes pivoting around the wooden floor. He thought that it must have been a ghost or the like, but ghosts didn't walk—Shane did, and he was a deity.

Once his eyes had opened, he saw the figure of his boyfriend near the window sill, shutting the blinds. Shane had taken the role making sure their bedroom was as gloomy as night whenever he left for work.

He left hours earlier than Ryan on Mondays, and to let Ryan sleep in peace for a while longer until _he_ had to wake up for work, Shane would make sure it was quiet and as dim as possible.

The only light in the room emanated from Shane’s chest, the blue hue had Ryan squinting his eyes until Shane turned around and it disappeared before his eyes.

“You’re up, sleepy head?” Shane murmured, walking to the bed again, “I’m going to work now, sleep for a while longer.”

Ryan hummed into the pillow he was given, even if he was drowned in sleep, his mind reminded him that it was his birthday. “It’s my birthday,” he voiced out loud, “isn’t that great?”

Shane gave him a toothy smile, equally as exhausted as Ryan, he leant down and pressed his forehead on Ryan’s temple.

“It is,” he muttered out, “happy birthday baby. We’ll go out tonight, yeah? Get some sleep.” Shane kissed his forehead again, a soft press of his moist lips on Ryan’s skin had him succumb to his drowsiness. 

“Call me later,” Ryan drawled and he rolled on the bed, Shane took his hand and squeezed it before standing from the bed. Ryan fell asleep to the sound of the front door closing.

Ryan woke up over an hour later, the darkness in the room kept him from actually waking up. He could see the slight ray of sunshine sneaking through the curtain as he jumped from his bed, maybe Shane _wanted_ him to stay in bed all day.

He liked the emptiness of their apartment, Mickie and Dori sleeping soundly on the unkempt covers as he dressed himself for work. On Mondays, Shane drove the car to work. Because he was still on ‘practicing until it kills me’ mode, Ryan let him do what he pleased.

He’ll walk to the bus stop sometimes, other times he’ll give in and teleport from a coffee shop to work (if he wanted to feel the after effects of nausea, really.)

Since it was his birthday, he skipped out on _that_. Kissing his puppies goodbye (and forced himself to leave the house,) Ryan set out on the walk to the bus stop. They didn't live far from the closest one, though, Jen would often walk with him if she found the need to keep him company. 

As a human being, Jen didn't have any spiritual or spectral power to help her know where he was at all times, she barely found out that she needed to _eat_ food to actually continue living. Currently, Jen’s living arranges were strange… a week ago Ryan told her that she could live with Shane and himself until she… finds a living space? 

Only two days later had she moved out of their apartment and to a hotel, _all in good hopes_ , Ryan thought until she moved back in yesterday when she realized how lonely she was there.

When Ryan told Shane about this, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. He argued with Jen for most of the afternoon, and that meant that Shane didn't know _why_ Jen was a human being. 

Shane told him that it wasn’t a good thing, a ghost resurrected from the dead meant an entity powerful than Shane himself was at play, and the sirens he had inside his head on stand-by tuned back when he realized that danger was amidst.

Maycie and Daysha’s disappearances since then had Ryan on alert too. Jen herself couldn’t tell him where they were or if _they_ had turned into humans too. 

Ryan shook all the negative thoughts away from his mind. So what Jen is human now?

Whoever had done may have Shane and Ryan on their hit list but to undo the fact that they resurrected his ghost friend? Not possible. Jen was happier. She loved to be human, although couldn’t return to her family, she liked the exclusiveness and to start over from where she wanted to.

_It would have been nice if she woke up to walk with him to the bus_ , he thought, imagined her as the heavy-sleeper she was.

He walked on the dry pavement, stepping on fallen leaves. Soon trees would be void of any, welcoming the winter season and _back_ to Christmas time. Late November had lovely weather (when it didn't rain.) For years he visited his mother’s grave in the rain, though as of two years ago he had the privilege to see her with the sun out.

And he thought of inviting Shane with him tomorrow. It’d mark nineteen years without her, and he wanted to introduce Shane to her personally. She wouldn't have liked him if she knew that he was a deity right out the bat, but she would love him unconditionally.

Ryan thought of buying her roses too, ones that—he stopped, what was that?

In front of him was the intersection of the bus stop, next to an apartment complex and in front of the park children had played in.

The morning sun was dawning on them, yet to move from the horizon but Ryan saw exactly what he knew he did. Children were in sets of groups by the bus stop, all of them with bright colored backpacks, some standing still over the ones jumping on one foot. 

What caught his eye was the girl on the sidewalk. She held the strands of her pink backpack with her hands, a doll under her arm and stomping her foot on the concrete. It looked as if she refrained from talking to the other kids, and focused on herself. When Ryan continued to walk closer he knew as to why he froze on the spot. 

It was Helen. The girl from his childhood, the girl who used to follow him from his house to the neighborhood bridge, disappeared when she saw Auntie— 

Auntie?

Of course. Auntie was the lady he visited as a child. And the woman who claimed herself to be Fate when she—Ryan froze again when one of the rowdy boys behind Helen ran over to her, she stumbled forward and the doll she held fell onto the road. 

It didn't take long for Ryan to connect the dots, Helen would reach for the doll and the truck speeding by would hit her. And as her foot stepped on the road, Ryan made a run for it. She would be human too, like Jen she would _feel_ this and she wouldn’t survive.

Helen was on the road, quickly approaching her fallen doll and fixing it with her hands. Ryan ran faster than ever he had in his life, he didn't pay attention to the caretaker at the time as his eyes centered on the girl.

“Helen!” He shouted, reached out a hand when she looked up, her eyes rounded at the sight of him. 

When he reached her side, he… went through her.

His body trembled at the sensation he hadn’t felt in a while before he felt a stinging pain on his side, his body must have gone airborne because when Ryan shook away the shock he was on the road. He stared at the sky, muffled screaming heard from his ears, following behind a strange ringing sound. Tears shone in his eyes, he felt a stripe of _something_ fall from his forehead, it bothered him and he tried to move his arm to touch it.

He let out an excruciating yell when he realized that he _couldn’t_ move his arm at all. Ryan knew he was paralyzed, there was no way he could have lived unscatched from a hit like that. As he hissed through the agony, Ryan tried to not think about his mother’s initial death, if he died… if he— 

He squinted his eyes, a figure moved in front of him and blocked out the blue-ish sky. It had been obvious who it was, their black suit and hat that Ryan’s seen twice before. Only his eyes refused to clear it out for him, he dealt with a blurred version of Andrew and he really cried this time.

His body shook in terror, Helen wasn’t human, _she was still a ghost_. And he was going to die trying to save her life.

Jen… Jen was right, knowing about the paranormal wasn’t all fun and games and one of them was going to affect him negatively. She wasn’t talking about a deity—she was talking about a _ghost._

Oh god, what has he done? What would Shane—

Shane?

“Sha—” _Shane_ , _I want to go home now_.

Ryan tried to move his paralyzed arm to his jacket pocket, where his zippo lighter would be. The scarf around his neck suffocated him as he tried to move himself a bit more, he cocked his head at the same time that Andrew left his side.

_Shane, please come to me. I don’t feel good._

Before he could react, Andrew’s arm raised and fell over to his jacket, Ryan felt him shuffle through the pockets before taking out the object Ryan was looking for. He tried nodding, only came out with a gurgled gasp, his mouth filled with a metallic taste. It was what he wanted… he wanted to call him but he—he wanted to touch the band around his finger.

He couldn’t. He was tired.

He closed his eyes when he saw Andrew’s hand approaching him, his last thought had been of Shane Madej.

 

* * *

 

"One for me," glitter poured into a tea cup, "and one for you, uncle."

Shane watched as Niki's daughter reached over the playmate's table and tilted her make-believe kettle into his own tea cup. Glitter filled to the brim, Shane's mouth curled into a smile as he lifted it up in his enormous hands and cheered, following her movements and pretending to take a sip. No doubt, glitter stuck to his upper lip but he pursed his lips and continued to entertain his guest.

_His guest_.

This was his tea party.

"Is it good? Made from the finest of tea leaves," Niki's daughter quipped. "Or at least that's what mommy says. She got it from  _Michaels craft store_."

Shane tittered, "I've had lots of teas in my lifetime. Yours is  _exquisite_. I enjoyed it, thank you."

Niki's daughter awe'd, she stood on her short, chubby legs and bowed. Her hair fell over her eyes as she did and she flipped it over non-elegantly, smiling as she did. She was one-of-a-kind, Niki's wife, Gabi had her eyes on her the second they walked into the adoption center. For once, those 'she reminds me of Ryan' made sense to him.

She did. Her skin a golden brown, and eyes humorously wide. Her stance had been shy at first, then her confidence blossomed once she grew used to her new parents, she refused to stop talking about what she loved and _hated_ bears.

If Shane didn't know better, he would have cornered Ryan about it. Except, when he first saw her and hung out with her, all he could think was having kids of his own. 

"Exq—? What's that mean?" She inclined her head at Shane, sitting back down on her stool.

"It means it's the best  _of_ the best," Shane addressed casually, himself politely taking the plastic croissant from the basket and placed it on her plate. "It's a word you should use at school, it'll make you sound smart."

"So... I can say that this..." she picked up the croissant in her hand, "croissant is exquiete?"

"Exquisite," Shane corrected, his tongue stuck out of his mouth, "yes. Like... your mother is an exquisite woman, your other mother is also exquisite—"

"Uncle Ryan is exquisite?"

At that, Shane laughed out loud and clapped his hands, "yes. The best of the best."

Niki's daughter mouthed  _exquisite_ to make sure she's pronouncing it correctly. Huh, Ryan would love her dearly. 

Though, he hasn't met her up close, Shane planned to introduce her later this week. The idea of Ryan with a child warmed his heart—enough for him to stand up and take his tea cup. "I'll be right back, I'm going to clean this. Keep practicing."

"Okay uncle," she stirred in her stool and dropped her arms on her knees. "I'll be waiting."

Shane's heart may have clenched inside of his chest. He walked out of his office in solace and wondered if having children was  _this_  fascinating. Today, Niki brought in her daughter because she had nobody to take care of her, and  _because_ Shane was the boss, he told her to bring her to work and he'll look after her. 

Hour three, he was having the time of his life. 

He smiled in passing Niki—who stood by the copy machine—and continued his way. 

Ryan—

He paused.

In the back of his mind, he saw crimson, the soothed color of love engraved into his vision as he blinked.

How long has he stood there for? He doesn't know. It seemed  _hours_ before he regained his senses, his eyes captured Niki's worried gaze and the deafening silence of the office floor. 

His heart pounded and he stilled himself, wondering what had happened. He balled his hand and the glass he's been holding shattered, the echo of his fingers enclasped around what he had in his hand roared in his ears. 

What was that?

“Wow, fuck, are you okay?” Niki asked, already bent down to the floor to pick up the broken pieces. “No, don’t touch it. You’re bleeding.”

Niki shoved Shane’s hands away, tossing them to the side as she carefully picked up the glass tea cup from the floor. It’ll be the last time he’ll let Niki's daughter play with glass tea cups.

“She’s nine,” Niki argued, “and less clumsy.”

“Careful,” he warned, he winced as he looked at his hand. The wound had healed, thanks to Ryan’s marital energy, he can heal faster than the speed of light. “My hand isn’t bleeding.”

Niki raised her head, she narrowed her eyes before averting them to her daughter in his office. “I suppose you’ve healed, magic man. What happened?”

Shane… wasn’t sure. He was walking over to the lounge to wash his tea cup before he felt the need to fall to the floor. Instead he smashed the cup in his hand and it fell to the floor in a heap of fragmented pieces.

He assumed that it must have been his sword but that was impossible because he hadn’t felt pain in weeks—not with Ryan around him, the pain was—

_Call Ryan._

Shane blinked, furrowed his eyebrows as Niki began to dump the tea cup pieces into the trash bin. She looked at him with a smile but Shane kept his ground, puzzled as to _why_ he wanted to call Ryan.

He had left earlier, before Ryan had the energy to wake up. The last time he’d seen him was when he kissed him goodbye, mumbling his words into his ear as the sun rose. Ryan said that he loved him sleepily and—

“I…” Shane bit his lip, petrified all of a sudden. “Have to call Ryan.”

“Shane?” He dragged himself out of the lounge and into his office. Niki’s daughter sat patiently, pouring her glittery tea into her own cup and grinned when Shane walked inside.

“Where’s the cup, uncle Shane?”

“In a minute, sweetheart,” he hastily replied, fingering his pockets for his phone. It must be in his coat, yeah, it was cold and November and Ryan’s birthday was today, so it was cold.

He didn’t know why he trembled, his shaky fingers reaching for his phone and dialing Ryan’s number.

It all happened in a sequence, hearing the distant ring through the receiver, watching Niki take her daughter outside when she saw his face and the blade, pierced in his chest began to glow. 

When the call failed, he hung up. He was about to call again when his phone rang in his fingers. Without warning, he answered it. 

“Ryan?”

“ _No,_ ” the voice answered, tone flat. They sighed on the other side of the call, “ _Andrew._ ”

Shane shut his eyes, “please, let me talk to Ryan. I don’t know what the fuck you want—just give him the phone.”

“ _I can’t do that._ ”

“Why?” Shane pinched the bridge of his nose in desperation, his chest exploded with subtle pain and Shane suddenly was filled with dread. Before Andrew could reply, Shane barked, “ _why_!”

“ _The dead cannot touch,_ ” Andrew’s words were nothing but a tauntful joke.

“Don’t say shit like that, where are you?”

“ _Madej._ ”

“Where the _fuck_ are you?”

“ _Shane Madej_ ,” Andrew echoed, his voice tone deaf to Shane’s ringing ears, “ _get a hold of yourself. Do not panic, we made a deal._ ”

Shane was seconds away from losing it, “Andrew,” he replied calmly, or as calmly as he would be, “where are you?”

He ran to his office door, on the other side he saw Niki on her knees, locked eyes with her sweet daughter as she comforted her as Shane yelled bloody murder on the other side. He closed the door with no other thought, when Andrew told him where he was, he yanked it open. 

The sight wasn’t pretty, from the other side of the door Shane could see the ambulance lights, a crowd of people in their pajamas, others in robes and wondering what was beyond the yellow tape. Shane’s phone from his hand, slipping through his fingers and he ran faster than he ever had before. 

He was going to be sick, he was—he saw the blood first, the unsettling puddle of dried crimson on the road and then to the crowd of children. They were disoriented, some of them red in the face as they led each other in the opposite direction. Amidst the crowd, Shane caught the eyes of a little girl, she stared at him with jaded eyes before disappearing. 

No.

Please not him. Take anybody else, take _him_. Don’t take Ryan.

Shane refused to look back to the blood and instead over to the sidewalk across the street. He ran past the adults shaking their heads at the sight of the crime, and ran over to Andrew. He raised his arm, clenched his fist as if to hit him but Andrew did not flinch. He retrieved his hand, “what the fuck have you done?”

“I did not hurt him.”

“ _Who_ _did_?”

Andrew’s mouth twisted, “it seems like he had done this to himself. People speculated it as a suicide—”

“Don’t _say_ shit like that!” Shane dug his palms into his eyes, pressing on his eyes like it were to wake him up from this nightmare. One where he would wake up to see Ryan sleeping next to him, his chest rising steadily as Shane pressed himself closer. “Don’t say that shit again, where is he?”

“We had a promise you and I,” Andrew went on, watched as Shane physically lost his mind. “I have him nearby, but he—”

“That commitment—the _oath_ we took—it wasn’t to happen _now!_ When Ryan—” when Ryan was old and feeble, when Shane saw him as an old man dying at the age of over one hundred. “Ryan. I want to see him, where is he?” 

“I told you I have him nearby,” Andrew, now annoyed over Shane’s fit. “Madej, I have to warn you that once I bring him here, you must not panic as you have limited time with him before I have to send him away.”

“Andrew,” Shane begged, “please, please let me resurrect him. It’s his birthday, he’s the _love of my life_.”

“I can’t let you, he’ll die quicker that way,” Andrew shook his head, “if you mess with his life, he would die by end of the day, let him rest in peace.”

_I can’t. I can’t. He’s my everything. How could I say goodbye to the only person I’ve held dear to my heart in decades?_ _The man who was to kill him_. 

Shane couldn’t contain his tears when he saw him.

Glowing by the sun, Ryan looked worse than repaired. His injuries, bloody and drenched in soot, his clothes torn. Shane’s seen this before—he was…

He was hit by a car.

He stood still and terrified, pupils blown and larger than Shane has ever seen them. What Shane wanted to do first was fall to his knees, scream out any prayer to let Ryan _live_ but he ran to him.

His arms reached out for Ryan and he tried to wrap his arms around him. Stunned that he _could_ touch Ryan, he kept him close and embraced him. God, did he want to cry. To bawl into the dip of Ryan’s neck and let him disappear on his own. But Shane had words to say, he had—he had to let Ryan know that he loved him.

“I—”

“It’s not your fault,” Ryan’s voice stopped him, he sounded as afraid as he looked. His body shook in Shane’s arms, “it’s not your fault, Shane, this was all me.”

Shane shut his eyes. How could it not be his fault?

His selfish acts of keeping himself alive _knowing_ that Ryan could die at any time. It never occurred to him that Ryan would put himself in danger if need be. For others, Ryan would do _anything_. 

“Okay, it's not—it's not your fault, baby—” Shane began, whispering into his boyfriend’s ears, he pulled himself away. Pressing a lingering kiss on Ryan’s filthy forehead, cupping his head with his hands. He couldn’t continue, he had limited time. They’d always had limited time. 

Shane reached for Ryan’s right hand, the band on his finger gleamed, he caressed his hand with his thumb, “I—I don't have much time, please listen.”

Ryan nodded.

"I'm so—I'm so sorry—" Shane's words trailed off as he shook, Ryan's transparent hand squeezed his forearm to comfort him.

"Don't apologize," Ryan reassured desperately over Shane's sobs, "don't cry—"

"Ryan—you—you don't understand," Shane felt his body boil, the flush of his cheeks worsened the despair he welcomed when he realized who he was  _actually_ speaking to. "You—"

He stopped. And tried to compose himself. He's been through this, he's seen people... die. He—for once, was at a lost for words.

“Centuries ago, God granted every wish of mine. He gave me power, money, he cursed me with immortality. I have abilities that no human could ever obtain, I can manipulate your mind with a flick of my hand, I could conger a box of cereal with a snap of my fingers. It is all I dreamed of as a boy. And still—”

Shane swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, “he has taken away the gift I wanted for a long, long time. He has taken my life, my everything. He has taken you from me. And no power, no ability could ever replace the ache I would feel for you for the rest of my eternal life without you.” He ended bitterly, his voice had become hoarse from his crying but Ryan smiled at him. 

His eyes lit up when Shane squeezed his hand, he placed it on his flushed cheek, holding onto his bloody fingers with the tightest grip he could muster and sobbed.

“You're wrong. I made a wish two years ago,” Ryan’s lip quivered, “and you granted my wish. He didn't give you me, _you_ found me. And I'm sorry that I died without marrying you.” 

“Don’t—” Shane let out a single cry, “don’t say that.”

“But I’m grateful,” Ryan’s fingers caressed Shane’s jawline, “I couldn’t have asked for a better wish. You shouldn’t give him all the credit, you are a gift in itself.”

“Ryan—”

“And I’ll find you, I’ll find you.”

“ _Don’t leave me_.”

Ryan huffed, his eyelids fluttering shut as he kept himself close to Shane. In Ryan’s state, he could not feel the pain he’d been through minutes prior, though, his soul began to fade away and if Andrew didn’t take him now, he’ll be nothing but a gust in the wind. 

They had to say goodbye now.

“I’m in love with you. Because with you, I learned _how_  to love somebody. To accept their love in return. And Shane, like you had done for me, I will do the same,” Ryan opened his eyes, they brightened up as he gave him a wide smile, apart from his bloody forehead, Ryan looked as he had years ago when they first met—like the day they first kissed, their first date, like their first time in Dodge Ridge. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Ryan smiled wider, his eyes gleamed with mischief as he inched closer, “I won’t drink the tea. That way—that way I won’t forget you."

“Ryan—Ryan don’t do that, please—” Shane cried out, though he knew that Ryan let go of him.

His cold touch no longer there and all he saw when he blinked had been the materialized version of Ryan’s soul. He wore transparency beautifully than it really was, no color to his clothing other than his disheveled red scarf, hanging loosely around his shoulders.

With every fiber of Shane’s being, he accepted that he could do no more than to cry. He reached for Ryan’s scarf and fixed it for him, one last time Ryan watched him pointedly as he did so. Shane could have said anything then, a 'to keep you warm on your way'  or 'make sure you learn how to properly wrap it out there.'

Shane couldn’t bring himself to.

Andrew stood behind Ryan, solemnly spoke no word as he took Ryan’s shoulder in his hand.

“I love you, Ryan. So much. I love you,” Shane scrambled to finally say, grimacing at Andrew’s bare hand touching Ryan. 

“I love you, too,” Ryan echoed back to him, his smile never left his face as he turned to Andrew over his shoulder. “This isn’t goodbye, just so you know. Don’t forget to stop for milk on your way home, big guy.” 

“I love you,” Shane said instead. He felt weak at the knees and fell to the pavement with a shudder.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, _I love you_ ,” he repeated out loud, though he pushed himself to not look at Ryan, he knew that they both were gone. Yet, he never stopped saying those three words, by the time he felt somebody shook him back to his senses, he took once long glance at the fallen leaves, autumn’s influence, Ryan’s birthday.

He screamed Ryan’s name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan, I'm so sorry. orz. Epilogue will be posted in a few!  
> [tumblr](http://mlnseo.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)


	12. Epilogue

**POLAND, 967**

_I am cursed._

Shane believed that he must have shouted at the sky, cursing whoever gave him such horrendous gift after he had been dead. After all those years... dedicating his life to his people and his king, this is how he is repaid? 

To live a life where not only his lover might be dead but never get a chance to see them until they wanted to? How many times would he pass by them in his life? Would he wait eternity for them? 

Shane’s bottom lip quivered. His eyes narrowed at the hollow meadow, he devoted himself to find them... to find whoever can free him and not to love them but to beg for their forgiveness and to kill him. Only then he’ll rest easy.

 

* * *

 

**ILLINOIS, 2146**

Liar.

Shane rubbed his chin, his eye twitched in anger as he listened to his client. Rambling to him, complaining to him, in the comfort of his office when his mind is thousand of miles away.

Humans are intolerable.

And at this point, Shane would rather have a twenty minute conversation with Alighieri; the man had babbled about death and Hell for years, but at least he was intriguing.

“Are you listening?”

Shane had the urge to say no, so he did. His client scoffed, and across the room, holding a set of folders in hand, Jen raised her eyebrows and held her laugh.

Without a word, his client stood, taking their belongings and saying a few choice words in his face, words that even he wouldn’t say.

“Good one, you let them get away,” Jen spoke after a few minutes of silence, “again.”

She walked over to him, where he sat in his desk with his head in his arms, breathing softly as if he were asleep. She must have tossed the folders beside him because she patted his back with both hands. 

“There, there, you’ll get it next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Shane confessed, “she walked out the door, she won’t come back.”

He lifted his head, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “Whatever, the case wasn’t a walk in the park, I wouldn’t defend a murderer even if my life depended on it.”

“How sure are you that he’s done it?” Jen asked, though she had already moved to the paper shredder, to have null contracts was one of Shane’s pet peeves. He hoped that she had electronic copies if she were to sue.

“No wife dies under suspicious circumstances, especially when the sole witness was her husband and his alibi was that he left to go outside to drink,” Shane looked at Jen, “he killed his wife.” 

Jen shook her head, the paper shredder loudly tore the case papers, music to Shane’s ears. “What an asshole. If he did that to somebody he claimed to love, could you imagine what he’ll do to someone he doesn’t know?” 

Shane didn’t reply to her, no, he couldn’t imagine. Mortals were greedy, he knew this, he _was_ one long ago. He knew the selfish traits they had for each other, their envy and jealousy bubbling into hatred.

To kill the person you love in cold blood, that was something Shane never understood. He could never think about—he _would_ have never lived with himself.

“I have to go,” he proclaimed out of nowhere, the paper shredder in full blast. Jen turned her head over the shoulder, “I’m leaving you with the rest of my clients for the day.”

“I see,” she nodded to herself, her black hair fell into her eyes as she concentrated on ripping the paperwork into shreds. He admired her fervor towards his unruly decisions and her zero tolerance for suspected murderers. “Today is the 26th.”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “today is the 26th.”

The sound of the machine whirling it’s bolts and screws filled the room, he began to shrug on his jacket but felt Jen’s eyes boring into him. “What is it?” 

“Why do you bother to come in every 26th of every November?” 

“So you _have_ noticed.” 

“It’s hard not to,” Jen sighed to herself, “I worked for your company for three years and you’ll stay until dawn but not… never today. Why is that? Is there like… a tradition? Holiday?”

“There’s no reason,” Shane gave her a half shrug, his hand moving to his wrist-watch, fiddling with the worn out leather. “I clock in for a few hours before I visit the man I love. It’s his birthday.” 

“Oh?” Jen’s eyes widened, “ _what_? You have a lover? I never knew that! You never bring him along!” She jumped in her place, “what’s his name! Who is he?”

“He’s busy, Jen,” Shane told her, avoiding looking directly into her sweet eyes, the same eyes that looked at him when she joked with him, “his name is Ryan,” he took a quick glance to caught _any_ sign of recognition in Jen’s face.

Her eye twitched, though she didn't seem to have a clue about who Ryan is. “Why have I never met Ryan?”

 _He’s dead._  

“He… is hours away,” Shane couldn’t think of another excuse, speaking about Ryan kept his opened his wound, bringing toxins and memories into the past that he didn't want to bring up. “I’ll see you later, Jen.” 

“Bring him one day!” Her voice, shrill, hollered as he stepped into the hallway of his floor. “I would love to meet him!”

Shane dug his palms into his eyes, stopping his tears from escaping _you already met him you knew him too._ He kept his head high as he walked, his shoulders wide and squared. No sign of fear in his expression.

His company was something to behold. Starting out as a small business, Shane moved to the top with little to no help. He fought cases tough enough that detectives themselves couldn’t solve.

(Manipulation was his best friend, being a deity was another.)

He defended victims, people who lost money, their children, their _life_. He never wanted to represent a murderer, so when he saw the man who he was appointed to represent, sitting on _that_ chair in his own building.

A man who had killed the person he supposedly loved. Shane wanted more to kill _him_ with all he had. He kept walking, today wasn’t the day to risk his reputation for.

Stepping through the double doors of his building, he found himself breathing in warmer air. The ocean breeze in the air, hitting his nostrils with a salty taste, palm trees swung from side to side.

Los Angeles hadn’t refrained from it’s pedestrians and tourists, the noisy atmosphere of the city left Shane astonished every time he visited once a year.

Despite years had passed, the city grew enormously, prices skyrocketed and life became less tolerable even for Shane himself. Memories of Ryan were here, and he made it his mission to at least give himself the time of the day to honor him in the way he would have.

The building where he first worked at, their apartment, and Shane’s home had been rebuilt or demolished. Tasty had been sold over to Kelsey’s affiliates in San Diego, the owner of _that_ restaurant rebuilt Tasty into something that Kelsey wouldn’t have imagined.

She never married, she retired at a decent age and spent the last of her years in Italy. By the end of her life, Shane lost contact with her—he couldn’t imagine that she would continue to call him, Ryan’s death hit her the hardest. 

She had been the only one that Shane didn't entirely know what occured in her life. He kept contact with Steven, who passed away years ago and left children of his own. They keep Shane in their hearts at least, children that Shane would spoil if he wasn’t working his ass off. In the end, Shane was utterly alone.

Jen was the only one who returned to him. She didn't remember anything from her past as expected, however she’d been the first to resurrect after Ryan’s death. Shane never knew the truth about Jen’s ‘mortality’ in 2018 though, he spent the first ten years researching _why_.

He concluded that Jen’s soul materialized as she was connected to Ryan, then died when he did. He assumed that was what happened to every spirit in Los Angeles connected to Ryan, Shane never saw one.

He’d lost sight of Fate.

(He knew that she was hiding from him, smart of her to do so.)

Shane moved to Chicago after the funeral, Mickie and Dori left to Ryan's aunt in Sacramento. Since he wasn't legally married to Ryan, he had to give him away to his grandparents, and they... they buried him next to his mother.

It was… hard.

Leaving him behind was. Shane has never been in such a state in his life before. He was homeless for twenty years, foodless and refused to do _anything_ for a long time.

He outwardly sighed, he was walking by the park now, autumn less of a season and now turned into an extended summer. The leaves on the trees continuously fell with the warm weather, but in the shade it had been the only way anybody could tolerate being outside.

Rain was another thing. Wherever Shane went, rain followed. He had exhausted all of his efforts to stop crying recently. Only had he discovered that the rain wouldn’t stop unless he off'ed himself, Shane gave in to the downpour.

He looked up from staring at the cracked pavement, dreary gaze looked at people walking past him. Many of them holding to their family or loved ones close under an umbrella, cursing the rain from falling into the sky. He hadn’t been here longer than two hours at least, but word about the cloudy day in Los Angeles was a far cry.

Suddenly, Shane saw it.

He froze on the spot, he squinted at them before continuing to walk closer. They sprinted in the rain, shoes squeaked on the pavement, no umbrella and only a hood covering them from the droplets. It was a man shorter than him, and before Shane could think further he looked away when the man turned his head over to him. 

He straightened himself, it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. 

But fuck, it terrified him when the man began to slow in his pace. To avoid any confrontation, Shane walked past the man—

 _You’re too tall for that—_ _the umbrella would only bump your head—_  

And stopped, he must have locked eyes with him because Shane’s breath caught in his throat. There was no mistaking the curiosity in his gaze, the way he would marvel at him as if he were an art piece at a museum. Shane didn't show any emotion to him, not even when the man looked away and hid his face further into his hood, sprinting away in the opposite direction.

Shane watched him go, made sure he made it to the bus stop at least. 

Another version of him… another memory of him. Shane clenched his fingers around the umbrella and promised himself that this would be the last time he’d ever return to Los Angeles.

 

* * *

 

Shane kept the promise ring. The old thing had been through the wringer, faded in color and dirt had found its way in between the diamonds. Ryan had been buried with his, the accessory around a finger of a man who would never see the light of day. He thought that’s why he couldn’t bring himself from throwing it away. 

He took everything of Ryan’s and kept it hidden. All of his clothing had been donated, books, his backpack, all of it had been gone after fifty years of storage. Only had a hundred years passed by when Shane decided to burn everything else. With the memory of Ryan’s smile engraved in his head, he burned everything he held dear to him with his own hand. 

He couldn’t do that to the sole item that promised Ryan's love for him.

Forgetting about Ryan was one thing, burning his possessions to start anew was another.

Still, forty-six years after, Shane found himself in the a loop. Nothing about him had changed and he was still in love with the person who couldn’t be with him. 

“Are you okay?” Jen asked him, he jumped in his chair and lifted his head, “boss? Are you okay?”

God, she sounds like Niki.

“I’m okay,” Shane assured, twisting the band around his finger, “what happened?”

Jen blinked and she reached for her phone, “you have a flight to catch,” Jen said, typing away on her device. “I’m here to check on you, do you have everything?”

“I’m as prepared as one can be,” he nodded his head, “how much time do I have left?”

“Three hours until you’re on said flight, seven until you’re physically in New Orleans,” Jen stated to him, it seemed as she was reading from her phone, “eight until you’re buying me souvenirs, please let it be a shirt this time, I’m trying to impress a girl.” 

Shane wanted to laugh at both the hilarity of spending four hours in an airplane and Jen’s comment to herself. He never bought her a thing. Usually when it came to business trips, Shane would wouldn’t spend as much time as necessary. Being away from Chicago never suited him in the way he wanted to. And going to New Orleans was a nightmare for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he consoled, “I’m packing up now.” 

He’s not going to New Orleans on a whim, he’s been scheduled to meet with a representative from New York there. Shane’s missing a few days work to listen to a bunch of humans ramble about how amazing New York is. With no intention of moving there, Shane politely accepted their invitation.

“Good,” she nodded, “though I don’t see the relevance of going to new Orleans when they work in New York...”

“Rich people like to show off,” _and_ _somebody is messing with me_.

“I suppose,” Jen shrugged, “don’t be late boss, remember to pack sunscreen.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him, walking out of the door with a whirl. Right when he was having his doubts about her, she constantly reminded him that she never changed. 

He toyed with the band on his ring finger, spun it once or twice before he stood from his chair. Hopefully he’ll get this done by tonight. Christmas was days away and Jen loved to pester him about ‘celebrating’ it with her and her would-be girlfriend. Shane wouldn’t do such a thing. He hasn’t celebrated said holiday in over a century.

New Orleans changed in population than it did appearance. Many older buildings remained, others had been demolished and renovated to appease the growing tourism. He’d seen Cajun’s once years ago, though he couldn’t tell if it had been demolished or not. 

Crowded with people of all ages, Shane made his way to the hotel he’d been appointed to. He knew how it’d go in his head, a series of events as follows: he’ll walk in, be greeted by men in suits and ridiculous haircuts, offered their finest wine and sit with them as they talk about the benefits of living and working in New York. 

(As if Shane didn't know.)

(It was terrible.)

He got it right to the dot and he walked out of there in the foulest mood. Who would have thought that humans were intolerable? How did Shane do it then? Patience was _never_ his best attribute and here he was, mingling around with them.

That’s what he gets falling in love with a human. 

Practically running out of the hotel, the promise of _we’ll keep in touch_ on the tip of his tongue, Shane took himself to the door he walked into. He doesn’t know what occured but he took the doorknob in his hand and looked to his right.

It was only a bench, that’s all. But in the back of his mind, Shane knew that he’d been there once before. Obviously, he’ll get déjà vu in _every_ location he’s ever been at but this—this was different. Ryan had been with him. 

Ryan, holding the to-go box of beignets in his lap, sitting with this stranger of a man and covered in Christmas lights hung on the trees in front of them. The trees had grown over time, now larger and thicker, their branches extended over to the bench itself.

Shane frowned deeply, his legs moving on their own and over to the bench. He stared at it, observing the cracked wood and the aged green paint. It was worse than he imagined and yet, it held a precious place in his heart. His hand moved to one of the arms of the bench, fingers caressed the cool surface.

“Excuse me?”

He jumped at the voice, whirled around and realized that whoever the voice belonged to was shorter than him. Without thinking, he looked down and caught the sight of whoever had spoken to him.

And—

It’s been a long time, years passed with no indication of ever seeing him again.

But damn, Shane never forgot him.

Ryan Bergara stood tall, his ebony hair pushed back by his gray cap, his t-shirt loose enough and tucked over his jeans. He carried his backpack over the shoulder, those once thin arms now a catalyst of a muscular man, grown up and healthy. His smile—toothy and directed at Shane—hadn’t lost its effect on him.

Shane held his breath for a long minute, watching Ryan’s glossy eyes release tears on his golden skin. The man that Shane met long ago, who had sobbed on him now kept his ground and cried at the sight of his beloved quietly. 

Though in front of him, Shane could not move, it had been like he was paralyzed by this man. It took him back to the New Years party in 2016, where he saw him. After longing for him all day, he saw him dance, talk and smile his way into the new year, and he was back, looking at him.

“Ryan,” he breathed, choked. Shane stood up, taking him into his arms and held him tightly. He was _real_ , he was a solid body that Shane could touch, he sobbed and hid his face into Ryan’s neck, breathing the cologne he wore along with the scent of _Ryan_. 

"It is _you_! Shane!" Ryan laughed, though it came out as a whimper and he wrapped his own arms around Shane.

He cringed whenever he was touched, Shane knew that before. But holy shit, the feeling of having Ryan in his arms after so long, it melted him, a puddle of a deity that used to be in Ryan’s arms.

His knees shook, overwhelmed by the intensity and he let himself fall into Ryan. Ryan caught him of course, with a chuckle and held him as tight as he ever had in his life.

They both couldn’t speak, much less pull away from the hug. Shane was terrified that if he did, Ryan would disappear, a sole hallucination that his mind made up. But no, he pulled away and Ryan was still there, smiling through the tears and Shane kissed him. 

Pressing his lips on Ryan’s like he’d never done before, like he couldn’t do when he died. All the love that Shane felt for him, waiting for him for _years_ , all that desperation and longing went into the kiss, and Ryan reciprocated with the same liveliness.

“Do you remember who I am?” It was a foolish question, yet, Shane asked him when he let him go at arms length.

Ryan’s face blanched for a moment before nodding, lips quivering as he kept nodding. “Yes,” he said weakly, “yes, I remember you.” 

With a nervous smile, Ryan looked up at him, “do you remember me?”

How could I forget?

“Yes,” Shane beamed, “you’re my everything.”

 

* * *

 

“Film?”

“Mhm,” Ryan wiped his hands on his jeans, “my dad wanted me to be a doctor but then I went on this cruise...”

“Ghosts, Ryan?” Shane sniffed, with the sleeve of his jacket, he rubbed the pollen off his nose. “I thought you’d be smarter than that.” 

Ryan gave him a flat look, “ghosts are real, Shane. I have plenty of evidence from abandoned asylums and houses I been to. My friends and I have _tons_ of videos.” 

Shane laughed, “is that so? I would have to take your word for it.”

“So,” Ryan whistled, “Chicago, huh? What inspired that?” 

“You don’t remember?” Shane fell backwards on the bench, resting his back on the wood before turning his head sideways to Ryan, “I took you to Chicago, we ate pizza and we saw the—” 

“The bean, right,” Ryan finished for him, his eyes gleamed at the memory, one that had been so long ago but Shane remembered it as if it were yesterday. “You told me that you were in love with me in Chicago... right?” 

“Yes I did,” Shane grimaced, “so did you.” 

“I think I said a lot of things,” Ryan started, “I want to apologize for anything that I said to you. I don't remember a lot of it yet.”  
  
“You will,” Shane asserted, suddenly the ache in his stomach returned, not one caused by the sword itself but by the anxiety to have Ryan sit there next to him. “Let’s just enjoy our time right now.”

The _I wish we lasted longer, years maybe. Celebrating decades of marriage, watching our children play in the grass of the farmhouse, eating strawberries with our grandchildren as I told them tales of the past_ goes unsaid, but the way Ryan closed his eyes, he knew that it was on his mind, too.

Shane felt his hand move, Ryan’s palm on top of his and intertwined their fingers. Even the feeling of his touch didn’t surprise him, it was familiar and he didn’t flinch. If anything, it made him want to yell in frustration, to shout at the sky with repressed rage.

He held it inside and leaned towards him, shoulder to shoulder in silence. It was the evident doom that they we’re postponing, procrastinating like a college student would and Shane spoke.

“I moved here a month after you died. I never left. I became a lawyer. I took in Jen, remember her?” Shane swallowed the lump in his throat when Ryan shook his head, furrowed eyebrows up kept listening to him anyway.

“She’s my assistant now, she’s doing a good job, so don’t worry about her. I’m doing okay, I feel like I’ve done everything now, _twice_ that I’m— Ryan—”

He watched Ryan shut his eyes again, gritting his teeth and ducking his head almost to the floor. The air surrounding them grew stronger, leaves plowing through the pavement, the sun’s rays on Ryan’s skin, glistening along with the tears that had gone dry, replaced by new ones.

“I want to die, Ryan,” Shane whispered, _begged_ , his hand trembled on Ryan’s for a second before he shook his head. His hair fell into his eyes, as he let out a heartbreaking sob. “I want to die, Ryan, please, let me die. If you love me—”

“Don’t _—_ ” Ryan hissed, but held his hand tighter, “don’t say that, just… just give me a minute.”

“You’re twenty-six years old, a film student studying in New Orleans,” Shane kept talking, the sound of Ryan’s cried overlapping it, he felt Ryan’s head duck into his chest, shaking them both.

“You love the paranormal, going as far as trying to prove it to be real. You love sports, basketball is your favorite and you wanted to be a professional player when you were little. You have a brother, a mother, a father who love you."

“Shane, I’m sorry,” Ryan whimpered over his bawling, reddened eyes looked at him, “I made you wait twenty-six years.”

“You have me, and I love you, Ryan Bergara. I will love you for you. Not because you’re my betrothed but because you’re the love of my life,” Shane lifted his hands to Ryan’s face, his thumb wiping away the tears on his warm, flustered cheeks. “But baby, it’s been over fifty-two years without you and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What?”

“You're the fourth Ryan I've seen,” Shane shook his head, and smiled, “it—it hurts, you have to let me go.”

All this time. All this time Shane had been...?

Fifty-two years since Shane had seen another version of him?

Shane— all the same— wandering around like a corpse looking for Ryan with no luck. He started wars, ended them, cured diseases, took up new hobbies, let go of old ones. He cried everyday, every night. 

Ryan didn’t seem to argue this, he studied him with such melancholy before letting out a heartbreaking sob. Something in his mind seemed to click, one that made him realize that his soul was tied with Shane’s, but not in this eternity. No. Not here.

In the end, Ryan nodded his head, “I understand.”

“Of course you do,” Shane stood, taking Ryan’s limp body with him. “You always did.” 

“This isn’t the first time you had this conversation.”

“No,” Shane showed no emotion in his face, he couldn’t anymore. “It isn’t. You’ve always been stubborn.”

“Stubborn enough to let you live through your pain? Am I a psychopath? Why didn’t I realize—”  
  
“It doesn’t matter now,” Shane held Ryan’s hand, gently and hovered it over the blade’s hilt, “what matters now is that we’re together again. I love you, Ryan.”

Ryan’s fingertips caressed the sword impaled in Shane’s chest, one that belonged to his father and had been stained with the blood of his enemies. One that Shane used to his advantage and was used _against_ him. A curse that they both needed to reverse or else, Shane would be stuck in a loop.

Ryan wondered if the other three resurrected versions of himself knew this.

And let him live.

“I love you, too,” Ryan cried, his voice void of any happiness, Shane’s hands were too cold.

With a single sigh, Ryan took hold of the sword’s hilt, grasping it in his hands.

 

* * *

 

Ryan’s miserable the next morning. Upon falling asleep on his Algebra homework and woke up grudgingly, he found out that he had been late for his tour. He hadn’t gotten a second to recollect or to change in warmer clothing when he’s running outside to not miss the first meeting of the day. 

It was raining again. A downpour fell in Los Angeles, people held their umbrellas and Ryan hid himself deeper into his jacket. As he rushed this morning, he didn’t think about grabbing his umbrella for the day; there had been a full on discussion inside of his head to either return back home for it or go to this tour and forget about it.

He attended his tour cold, soaked and drowsy.

When it’s time for him to search for his classmates, he decided to skip their 'after' party and head back to the hotel to take a nap before he passed out on the street.

Hiding his face with the hood of the jacket, he walked.

As tired as he is, he recalled a shorter route from his hotel to the location his class met up this morning. (He usually loves the longer routes because it gives him time to think without his buddies breathing down his neck.)

It was across a park, trees void of leaves due to autumn’s shortcoming. Leaves left scattered on the pavement, a variety of red, orange, yellow scraped against the concrete like nails on a chalkboard and as Ryan took unhurried steps, they crunched under his shoes. The park was lovely, a bit filthy but tranquil to walk by.

His hands instinctively moved to his neck to adjust his hood, he looked up in confusion when he felt eyes on him. And as he lifted his head, he caught the sight of someone else walking through the park.

Ryan noticed first how tall the man had been, face bleak and looking straight ahead. He wore a navy blue sweater, his hair a frowled heap as if he’d woken up a few minutes ago and framed glasses on the bridge of his thin nose.

God, he was the epitome of a gorgeous man. The man was walking the opposite direction as Ryan and would pass by him.

Oh god. Ryan turned away promptly, his cheeks felt a bit warmer than before. He walked slower as the man picked up his pace, holding his own umbrella on top of his head.

 _You’re too tall for that_ , Ryan wanted to say,  _the umbrella would only bump your head_ — 

Suddenly, the man turned to him, making eye contact as if he had heard Ryan's thoughts. There’s no visible emotion in his eyes but Ryan felt his heart stop. Everything around him felt as almost a blur as he caught this man’s eyes— 

He knew this man. It was in the back of Ryan's mind, looking at this man in the eyes in the heart of L.A. He—This was?

With that, Ryan looked away from the man and continued to walk languidly beside him. He’s about to pass him when he realized why he had been so stunned.

It’s not his sweater, but a sword, visible as day impaled through the man’s chest. Ryan held his breath when he saw it, it had been startling and Ryan didn’t expect to see such a thing in the middle of a park. 

Oh. This is?

Feeling colder, Ryan instinctively shrank from the man and continued his way through the park; feeling as if someone was watching him until he was out of sight. 

 

* * *

 

Limbo, is what Shane called it.

There was nothing. His vision clouded by the darkness he felt inside. He knew that his eyes were wide open, his pupils wavered as he tried to regain control of his mind. 

Except. He couldn't. He gave up the middle that he tried to. He heard a weary beeping sound from his right and to his left, voices. Screaming, shouting, the clanking of his father's sword with enemy's flesh and bone. He listened inventively, even if he didn't want to. 

But—

It faded as quickly as it came and all he heard now was laughter. No, it was familiar. He knew this voice. They were speaking to him, or what he was before. The invisible soul—trapped in his own Limbo—felt his eye twitch when he heard another boisterous laugh. It wasn't  _him_. But he focused his eyes to try and see  who it was.

Oh.

He knew.

Their form wasn't vivid, only an outline of the person who Shane saw. Their muscular back, how it twisted whenever they turned to look at Shane. Their lips curved into a smile whenever Shane spoke, their... their eyes.

Yes.

The brown ones, when they crinkled when he smiled too. He saw  _them._ Everywhere, in New Orleans where he once was lost and lonely, fiddling with a crab shaker in his bronze hands. In London, holding onto Shane's shoulders and guided him with a chocolate bar in his mouth, in Canada, where he brushed hands with Shane and hid his face into his scarf for a few minutes.

In Dodge Ridge, where Shane saw him the most vulnerable, an enigma of a man that Shane touched and kissed for an entire night. In Chicago, where Shane told him that he was in love with him. Where Shane knew that he  _was_ in love.

He couldn't—he couldn't leave him—

No. I don't want to leave him. _Give me more time with him. I swear—_ Shane felt a tear run down his cheek when Ryan looked at him for the first time— _I'll give you all I have, take my powers, take my money, take everything from me just..._ _let me be with him_.

There's no—there's no way. _I learned my lesson, kill me or let me be with him. Don't I deserve to love too?_

He refused to stay in his Limbo any longer, to see the film of memories he wouldn't remember. 

Shane closed his eyes and prayed God to take him peacefully. No longer had he felt his father’s sword inside of him, nor did he feel maggots crawl onto his skin. He felt nothing, he felt nothing when he opened his eyes.

The sound of his name... out of the lips of the man he loved. Ryan called for him.

And Shane woke up.

* * *

**CALIFORNIA, 2147**

“When did you write this?” Ryan asked, eyebrows knitted together as he squinted at the worn-out journal. 

Shane looked over his shoulder, but hadn’t ceased from washing his hands with soap, he grinned when he saw his handwriting, the elusive cursive that intoxicated Shane wrote.

“Oh, right. I never told you then. Hmm, does it matter now?” He argued, kissing Ryan’s cheek before returning to the sink.

“To me it does,” Ryan muttered, “I love it a lot. My heart bounced from the heavens to the earth in a dizzying pendular motion. Such was the moment—”

“I had fallen in love with you,” Shane finished, he had the entry memorized. Ryan reading it aloud for him drew back memories of a century prior. 

Looking back at it, Shane still felt the same.

“It’d be helpful to tell me when you wrote this,” Ryan sighed, closing the journal and placing it on Ryan's parent's coffee table, Mickie bounced around Shane’s feet when he walked to his lover. “So, I could have a better understanding of when you fell in love with me.”

Shane smiled, and took the journal in his hand, clicked the pen he had with him, “it's difficult to say. I fall in love with you everyday.”

 

* * *

 

I’ll mark it in red, from me to you. When I saw you in New Orleans, when I saw you now.

An object needn’t be large to have a great mass. _Then came you_ ; that man, drifting in the sky like the pedals of a flower draws me to him with a force greater than the one exerted by earth. In a single moment, I fell and rolled toward him without rhyme or reason just as Newton’s apple did. With a thump, my heart bounced from the heavens to the earth in a dizzying pendular motion.

Such was the moment, ~~I had fallen in love with you _._~~  I knew that I would love you for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's that! Such a bittersweet ending. The k-drama's ending was too sad for me, but when you're a writer you can bend the rules so ultimately, Shane's curse was lifted and now he's 100% human! He and Ryan lived happily ever after, they might have gotten married!
> 
> Hopefully got ourselves the best ending in my book. I couldn't let them live apart from each other!
> 
> Again, thank you all so so so so much for reading! A total of 200K+ words, whoa momma. Starting this story in September 2017 and ending it a year later is so fitting.
> 
> If you wish to talk or yell at me or anything!! I'm mostly on [tumblr](http://mlnseo.tumblr.com) whenever I can and (very, very rarely,) [twitter!](http://twitter.com/unsolveds_)
> 
> Much love, xoxoxo. (You'll see me around! Happy season finale!!)


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